


Childproof Lock

by stormypetrel



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-07-20 07:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19988581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormypetrel/pseuds/stormypetrel
Summary: Alien planets are not necessarily the best place to go looking for spare parts, particularly spare parts which turn out to be behind unusual security systems. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Abandon hope all ye who attempt to take this seriously... I blame the heatwave, myself.

“Come on, Vila!” Blake, never the most patient of men, was frustrated. Given the risks involved in this raid for spare parts, he could have done without the unaccustomed delay in getting through the last security door.

“All right!” Vila looked round, nettled. “I told you, I haven’t seen one of these before. It takes a delicate touch, you know... And it would help if you shone the torch at the lock instead of straight in my eyes!” He blinked furiously at Avon, who was currently holding the flashlight. “I can’t see anything now.”

“Give it here.” Blake took the light and re-angled it; Avon stood aside with an unseen shrug. “Now get on with it.”

Still looking indignant, Vila retrieved a different probe from his toolbox and made another attempt. The others waited with ill-concealed impatience.

“Are you done yet?” Blake’s question died as the lock exploded, blowing them backwards. There was silence as the dust settled; then, wincing, Blake pushed himself into a sitting position on the concrete. The torch was some distance away; he could not see either Avon or Vila.

“Are you...” He stopped suddenly as he heard his own voice, and tried again. “Are you all right?”

“Blake?” The reply, like his own question, came in a voice which was familiar and yet not.

“Avon?” he said uncertainly. He began to crawl towards the torch; it seemed Avon had had the same idea, for they collided as they both reached for it.

“Yes,” confirmed the small figure now dimly visible.

“But... you...” Blake rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly. When he looked back, however, he was still being regarded sardonically by a dark-haired child of about eight or nine. “You’re little,” he said inadequately.

“You’re littler,” pointed out Avon. As a retort it was not one of his better efforts; but Blake, looking down at himself, suspected it was true.

“How?” he demanded. “You can’t grow backwards.” This statement sounded confused even to his own ears, but somehow he lacked the words to correct it. Surprisingly, Avon seemed to overlook this.

“We were all right before that door blew...” he began.

At the same moment, they became aware of an uncharacteristic silence from the third member of the party. They swung the torch beam towards the door.

“Vila!” they called in unison. It was surprising how much menace could be injected into two small boys’ voices; there was a gulp from the shadows, before a dusty, sorry little figure found its way into the torchlight. “What have you done?” Blake and Avon advanced threateningly; Vila made a dash to put the toolbox between himself and them.

“I didn’t...” He stared, round-eyed and frightened, as they came nearer; then, at the last minute, opened his mouth in a baby wail. “Teleport!”


	2. Chapter 2

Back on board the Liberator, the remaining members of the crew were seated around the flight deck, waiting.

“I wonder how they’re getting on,” remarked Gan.

“They haven’t called in yet...” Jenna tailed off as the communicator crackled into life.

“Teleport!”

Cally flicked a switch. “Blake?”

“That’s not Blake. It sounds more like... Wait.” Jenna turned to the main screen. “Zen, who is that speaking?”

“Help!” yelled the voice. Cally got up and hurried to the teleport section; Gan followed, while Zen announced to Jenna,

+Voice print indicates Vila Restal...+

“Cally, bring them up!” Jenna hurriedly went after the others.

+...although with some organic change,+ Zen finished to the empty flight deck.

Three figures were already beginning to materialise in the teleport bay as Jenna arrived; her jaw dropped as they flickered into view.

One small boy, his expression as black as his hair; another curly-headed one, slightly smaller again; and the third, a good head shorter than either of the others and clutching a toolbox nearly as big as himself.

“It wasn’t me!” howled the smallest one, abandoning the toolbox in favour of a safe refuge behind Gan’s legs. His eldest companion made a lunge for him as he ran, but the other held him back.

“You can’t hit him,” he said firmly. “He’s littler than you are.”

“Blake, look what he’s done to us!” Avon’s fury was apparent even in a somewhat higher pitch than usual; he wriggled himself free and prepared to give chase. Luckily, Cally gathered her wits in time to stop him.

“Avon, no.” Stepping forward, she put a restraining hand on his arm. “He’s frightened enough already.”

“Good,” said Avon. “Wait ‘til I get hold of him.”

“I didn’t,” wailed the tiny Vila, clinging tightly round Gan’s knees in case of attempted removal. “I didn’t, I didn’t...”

“What did, then?” asked Jenna, finding her voice at last. She looked at Cally in disbelief. “Is it really them? Not some sort of trick?”

“It is definitely them,” replied Cally.

“But... what’s happened to them?” She gazed at Blake, who was sucking his thumb uncertainly. “What do we do with them?”

“Why don’t we show them to Zen?” Cally suggested. “At least on the flight deck we can all sit down.”

“I think we need to,” agreed Gan. With some difficulty, he detached Vila’s grip on his knees, lifted the smallest member of the crew out of Avon’s reach, and carried him out of the teleport section. The others followed dazedly.

Jenna approached Zen while Gan and Cally sat their three young charges on the flight deck couch. She hesitated for a moment, then said,

“Won’t Zen need to scan them?” She glanced between her small crewmates and the scanner. “Vila’s the smallest...”

“I’m not, I’m not... I don’t want to!” Vila panicked wildly as Gan took the hint and lifted him back up again. 

“It won’t hurt,” Gan reassured him.

“I don’t want to go on it!”

“I’ll go,” said Blake. He tentatively approached the scanner dome while Gan released a white and almost tearful Vila. “Should I sit on it?” He attempted to scramble up; with a helpful shove from Gan, he was soon perched on top.

“Zen, can you tell us what has happened to Blake and Avon and Vila?” Jenna asked.

+They have come into contact with a device causing reversal of the humanoid ageing process. This is used as a deterrent to crime on the planet Loreal. Young humans are considered easier to recondition.+

“Temporary reversal, or permanent?” pressed Jenna.

+Information is not available.+

“But we can’t stay like this!” Blake exclaimed, climbing back to the floor. He was sucking his thumb again, Jenna noticed. She looked despairingly at Zen.

“Can we counteract it?” she asked.

+No information is available.+

“Ask Orac,” put in Avon. “Orac’s sensible.” His tone suggested he thought Orac might be the only one who was, besides himself. Sliding off his seat, he went and put the key in place. “Orac, that stupid idiot’s got us all shrunk. How do we get put back to normal?”

“Shrunk?”

“They’ve been turned back into children, Orac,” Cally explained.

“What a fascinating experiment.” Orac seemed quite taken with the idea of half the crew having reverted to childhood. “It is of course a variation on the theme of molecular reduction...”

“But how do we get put back?” Jenna stifled a laugh as Avon actually stamped his foot in frustration.

“If you mean to ask how you are to be restored to your proper form, I am not yet certain if that is possible without waiting for sufficient time to elapse.”

“Do you mean it’s not reversible?” asked Cally in horror.

“That is what I am trying to ascertain.”

“Are we stuck like this?” Blake sounded worried; Vila, picking up on his tone, shuffled himself into a tiny ball on the seat beside Cally, and did his best to appear invisible.

“It really is most interesting,” Orac went on, unmoved by their distress. “To reduce your clothing and possessions in size at the same time as yourselves suggests rather a sophisticated device was used.”

“It’s just as well,” remarked Jenna. “Imagine if it hadn’t.” Avon scowled at her.

“How exactly did it occur?” queried Orac.

“Don’t know,” admitted Blake. “We were all grown up, and then... we weren’t.”

“He was picking a lock, and it blew up,” said Avon, pointing an accusing finger in Vila’s direction.

“Boom!” added Blake helpfully.

Orac burbled. “The way in which their language and behaviour has regressed but their memories remain intact is particularly fascinating...”

“The only thing that fascinates us is how to bring them back to normal,” Jenna broke in. “So do you or don’t you know?”

“There is not sufficient data at present...”

“I don’t think he knows.” Blake was sucking his thumb in earnest now. “If we have to stay little for ever, how will we fight the Fed...Federation?” He struggled with the long word.

“Well, you’d certainly have the element of surprise,” laughed Gan. Blake looked quite taken with this idea; Avon gave him a cold look.

“No, Blake. I’m not staying like this. You can if you want to, and no one will notice the difference with _him_ anyway, but I am not staying like this. Orac, put us back!”

“I cannot, as you so simplistically put it, ‘put you back’ without further data to work upon,” protested Orac.

“What data?”

“If I was able to analyse the device contained within the lock then it is possible I might discover exactly how it was operated.”

“You mean we have to go back and get it?”

“That much is obvious.”

“If it blew up there might not be much left to get,” Gan pointed out. There was silence as the truth of this statement sank in; then Cally gently shook the small figure curled up beside her.

“Vila, can you remember what happened to the lock you were working on? Sit up, and see if you can help.”


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, Vila unrolled himself and shuffled into a sitting position.

“It was a very hard lock,” he said earnestly. “Couldn’t get it open without ex... ex...” He faltered, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and frustration.

“Explosives?” Cally prompted him.

“Go bang?”

“Yes.”

His face cleared. “Explosives,” he said, carefully, as if the word was a new one, “Or me.”

Cally suddenly realised the significance of Orac’s comment about language regression.

“I never saw one of those locks before,” Vila added.

“I wish you still hadn’t seen one,” Avon informed him. “At least if we’d used explosives we wouldn’t have been close enough to be hit by... whatever it was.”

“Too noisy,” argued Vila. “Like you an’ Blake, keeping getting in my way and telling me to hurry up like I hadn’t got to be very clever to open it...”

“You didn’t open it,” pointed out Avon. The inference was clear, even to an infant Vila.

“I did!” he shouted, outraged. “You weren’t even looking!”

“All right!” Cally intervened hurriedly. “You opened the lock. That was good. Can you remember what happened next?”

“It went bang, and I fell over and bumped my head.” Vila studied his feet. “Then everybody shouted at me,” he said miserably. “I was scared.”

“So you started yelling like a baby for teleport before we could see what had happened,” Avon reminded him in disgust, “And now nobody knows if the lock’s in a million pieces or one and we’ll have to go all the way back to find out.”

“You had better be careful,” Jenna warned. “Don’t forget what Zen said. They use those devices so they can recondition people more easily. If you’re seen-” she hesitated slightly, “-unaccompanied children, they’re bound to be suspicious.”

“One of us could go with them,” offered Gan.

“Then you might get shrinked as well,” Blake said seriously, walking to the weapons rack. He reached up for a gun, then withdrew his hand with a yelp. “Zen won’t let me have one!”

“Are they hot?” Avon reached over Blake’s head to try for himself, then drew back with a similar reaction. He whirled round to glare at Zen’s screen.

“He probably thinks you’re too young,” said Jenna, amused. “Is that the problem, Zen?”

+Confirmed.+

“But we need them!” protested Blake. “The other ones we had have gone.”

“The device does not extend to the downsizing of weapons,” Orac interrupted. “Therefore when you yourselves were reduced in size, they would no longer fit you.”

“You said you didn’t know how it worked!”

“I don’t. It is reasonable to assume on the basis of probability. The phenomenon is one which I would like to study further, however. It would be most enlightening if I were able to analyse one of you...” Orac got no further; Avon whipped out his key.

“Zen, release the guns,” he commanded.

“I’m in charge!” Blake glared up at him.

“I’m older than you are.”

“Zen is hardly going to release anything while you are squabbling like children,” Cally said. She realised how ridiculous the comment sounded, given their current state, as soon as she said it; but confronted with two small boys scowling in her direction, she refrained from trying to correct it. Ignoring their furious looks, she got up and took a gun herself. Blake and Avon watched in annoyance as she fastened the belt around her waist. “I will go with you.” Cally looked at them speculatively. “Maybe Zen will let you take them now.”

Warily, they both made a grab for the nearest guns; this time they were able to retrieve them.

“Vila, come and get yours,” Blake called. Vila hesitated; Gan went and gave him a gentle shove to get him to his feet.

“My head’s sore,” said Vila, looking appealingly at Cally. “Look.”

“Well, if you come along and help us it will take your mind off it, won’t it?” she answered firmly, ignoring his attempt to display the faint bruise on his temple. His face fell.

“You have to come,” said Blake. “We can’t do the locks if you don’t.”

Vila sighed; standing on tiptoe, he reached for a gun of his own, narrowly avoiding giving himself another knock on the head as he pulled it out.

“It’s too big,” he complained, clutching the gun unsteadily in both hands.

“Put it down!” Jenna exclaimed, as everyone moved swiftly further away. He did so, looking relieved. “If you can’t manage it, you’ll have to do without.” His relief turned to apprehension, but he followed the others back to the teleport section quietly enough.

“He won’t be able to carry that, either,” said Gan, looking at the toolbox still sitting in the teleport bay. Vila, with an obvious effort, lifted it about three inches off the ground. 

“Can, look.”

“I’ll help,” offered Blake. “I’m bigger than you.”

“So is everybody. Why have I got to be the smallest?”

“You were nearest the door,” said Avon. “You probably got hit with more of the...” He paused, not sure exactly what had hit them.

“Shrinky stuff?” suggested Vila.

“ _Shrinky stuff_? How old are you, Vila?”

“Do you mean really, or just now?”

Avon gave up, and stepped back into the teleport bay. “Can we go now?”

The rest of the party joined him; Cally checked the three smaller members were ready, then gave Jenna a nod.

“Put us down.”


	4. Chapter 4

Reasoning that the explosion of the lock would have raised an alarm, they teleported down outside the fence which surrounded the security complex. They would have to make their way back inside, but it at least avoided arriving in the midst of the guards who were no doubt still looking for them.

“This isn’t where we came down before.” Blake sounded uncertain. The others looked around. They appeared to be in some deserted scrubland, although they could see the complex in the near distance. Cally judged it to be about a mile away; an easy walk, in normal circumstances. She hoped it would be just as easy now.

“We’re further away,” agreed Avon. He looked up at Cally; if he found the need to do so disconcerting, he hid it fairly well. “We can still walk there. We’re on the right side.”

“How did you get in before?” she asked.

“Vila opened the gate,” Blake told her. As if to lend emphasis to this point, Vila removed a tiny probe from his pocket. He held it out to Cally, looking puzzled.

“What’s the matter?”

“It was bigger before,” he said, holding his hands apart to demonstrate.

“Orac told you all our things got smaller too,” Avon pointed out. “Don’t you ever listen?” He watched as Vila, with a sudden look of alarm, began to scrabble with the catches of his toolbox. “Now what?”

“What if it’s made them all littler and now they don’t work?” Vila heaved a sigh of relief as the lid came off to reveal a set of full-sized tools.

“You weren’t touching those,” said Blake. “The other one was in your hand.”

“Oh.”

“It should have been obvious. The box hasn’t shrunk,” added Avon.

Vila looked abashed for a moment, but shook his head in mute agreement. The box was all too clearly as big as ever. He glanced at Cally sadly.

“I’ll carry it,” she told him, interpreting the look correctly. “Now we have to find the way back in.”

“This way,” announced Blake, with more confidence than before. He started to dash ahead; then stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to the others at a telepathic warning from Cally.

_Blake! Wait for us. Remember it may be dangerous if you are spotted alone. You must all stay with me._

“I forgot,” he apologised, rather sheepishly.

“You were bad enough about trying to get us all killed when you were grown up,” remarked Avon. “I should have known you’d be even worse now.”

Blake glowered at him. They walked on in silence for a little way, alert for any sign that their presence was attracting attention; but from what they could see there was not even any sign of unusual activity within the perimeter fence.

“Do we have to walk far now?” queried Vila.

“No,” Cally reassured him, just as Avon said,

“Yes.”

“Avon...” began Cally. 

“Is it very far?”

“Yes,” said Avon, even more shortly than before.

“My feet are tired.”

“I’d be tired if I was attached to you.”

Vila looked hurt, but he stopped complaining and trailed along in silence.

Reaching the fence without incident, they stopped just out of sight to consider their next move.

“The gate might still be open,” Blake suggested. Vila shook his head. “How do you know?”

“I shut it again so they wouldn’t see.”

“Can you open it again?”

“You’ll make sure they don’t get me?”

Blake and Avon both drew their guns in reply; Cally picked up the toolbox from where she had rested it on the ground, but Vila shook his head again.

“I can do it,” he insisted.

“All right.” Cally handed him the box; he staggered over to the gate with it, selected a probe from within, and reached for the lock before turning back to look at the others with an expression of comical dismay.

“Stop wasting time,” muttered Avon, as Vila stood on tiptoe and waved the probe helplessly underneath the lock in order to make his predicament quite clear. “Does he want us to get caught?”

Vila couldn’t hear, but he could see Avon’s expression. Sighing, he proceeded to drag the toolbox nearer and climb up on to it before starting work on the lock in earnest. It was not long before he waved to attract their attention once more.

“He’s done it!” exclaimed Blake.

They made a dash for the gate before a security patrol could arrive, heading straight for the nearest cover within the compound.

“Where is everyone?” Blake peered out of their hiding place, looking for any sign of the guards they had expected to see.

“Maybe they’ve stopped looking for us,” suggested Vila hopefully.

Cally shook her head. “There’s something wrong.” She thought for a moment, then asked, “Do they know about the teleport?”

“No.” Blake looked puzzled, but his face cleared as Avon said,

“You mean they think we’re still inside. They’re trying to stop us getting out, not in.”

“Come on, then, before they notice they’ve got it wrong!” Blake accepted the explanation as if he had already thought of it, stepping confidently out of hiding without bothering to check if the others were following. Avon went next, looking as if he was only doing so under sufferance; Cally shepherded a reluctant Vila along as she brought up the rear, following Blake’s lead to what appeared to be the head of an air vent.

“Is this where you got in before?” she asked doubtfully.

Three small heads nodded; Blake and Avon began trying to remove the grille blocking their way.

“It was easier last time,” complained Blake. “It’s got heavier.”

“You have got smaller,” Cally reminded him. She lent her own efforts to the removal team; the grille shifted, revealing the entrance to a wide ventilation shaft. Blake and Avon scrambled inside, looking out at the others. 

“You have to hold the sides to slow yourself down,” Blake explained. Avon demonstrated, then sat up and reported,

“I think there’s a problem. Can you reach?”

Blake tried. “Sort of. Can’t you?”

“Just.”

“What about me?” Vila poked his head into the shaft, then crawled inside and lay down with his arms and legs sticking out sideways. “I’ll fall down there. I’m not going if I have to fall down a hole...” He kicked his feet to show how far they were from the walls of the shaft; the sheet metal gave an echoing rattle. “Look!”

“Shut up, Vila!” Avon grabbed him by the ankles. “Idiot!”

Blake gave an experimental shuffle further in, still trying to slow his progress by clinging to the sides.

“I think it’s all right... Oh!” There was a sudden yell as he disappeared at speed, with accompanying clanging noises.

“What happened?” asked Vila, eyes wide.

“Blake fell down the hole,” Avon told him, with some satisfaction.

“Can he hurt himself down there?” Cally queried.

Avon shrugged. “Probably.”

“Then we’d better find out.” Restraining herself from shaking him, Cally prepared to go next. Avon gave her a good start, then turned to Vila.

“You next.”

“No... oh, no, Avon. It’s dark down there... no... don’t... Avon!” Vila’s pleas turned to an anguished wail as Avon gave him a calculated shove, before skidding swiftly after him. Their progress along the shaft could hardly be described as stealthy. Miraculously, however, they reached the point at which it flattened out without any serious damage.

“Ssh,” whispered Blake as they clattered into view. “They’ll hear you.”

“You weren’t exactly quiet,” Avon answered.

_Are you both all right?_ Cally, at least, could ask silently.

“Yes.”

“No.” Vila’s denial was ignored; Blake was already crawling ahead to the maintenance hatch they had used on their first visit. This time the grille was small enough to be removed without Cally’s help; but both Blake and Avon regarded the drop it revealed with some wariness. Somehow it seemed a long way down compared to their first attempt.

“You’re in charge,” reminded Avon. “Isn’t the leader supposed to go first?” It was enough to persuade Blake to risk the jump to the floor; he hung from the edge of the hatch for a long moment, then dropped as if he had merely been waiting for the right second. He grinned cheerfully back at the others as he landed.

Avon, now assured that the drop could be accomplished in safety, followed him; Vila craned forward to look and was instinctively grabbed by Cally in case he followed head-first.

“Come on, Vila, we’ll catch you,” called Blake. Vila glanced nervously at Cally.

“Or we can leave you up there if you’d rather,” added Avon.

Cally sighed, seeing that Vila seemed uncertain which option was the least terrifying. “Would you like me to go first?” she asked. Vila nodded.

“Then you can catch me,” he said solemnly. “You’re bigger than them, so you won’t drop me, will you?” Smiling at this legitimate concern, Cally let herself lightly to the floor.

“Right,” she called up. There was a moment’s hesitation; then the toolbox appeared, dropping suddenly from the hole in the ceiling. Catching it, she put it to one side. “Now you, Vila.”

“You promise not to drop me?”

“I promise.”

A small pair of feet appeared over the edge of the hatch; they were swiftly followed by the rest of their owner, with his eyes tightly shut. Luckily Cally kept her promise; Vila, opening his eyes as he realised he had stopped falling, beamed at her gratefully.

“Come on!” Blake tugged impatiently at Cally’s sleeve. “This way.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jenna and Gan, left on board the Liberator, were still dazedly trying to come to terms with the state of their crewmates. After sitting in stunned silence for a while, Gan had left the flight deck; now he came back, a cup in each hand, and handed one to Jenna.

“Thanks.” She took it, thankful for the distraction.

“Do you think they’ll manage to find anything?”

“Who knows?” Jenna took a sip of her drink. “I expect they’ll let us know if they do.”

“Orac didn’t seem too sure if we could fix things even if they do bring back the device from the lock,” Gan remarked, looking thoughtful. He hesitated, then asked, “What will we do if we can’t reverse it?”

Jenna repressed a shudder at the thought. “I don’t want to think about it,” she admitted.

“No.” Gan looked more thoughtful than ever; but before he could add any more, Zen interrupted.

+Information.+

What is it, Zen?” Jenna turned to look.

+Long range detectors indicate there is an unidentified ship approaching.+

Alarmed, Jenna leapt to her feet and went to the controls; an image appeared on the main screen.

“That looks like a Federation ship,” observed Gan.

“One on its own? Will it come close enough to see us?”

+If present speed and course are maintained, it will pass within five hundred spacials,+ intoned Zen.

“Too close,” said Jenna. “We’ll have to move. If I do a half-orbit of the planet, that should take us out of sight without our moving too far away to come back for the others.”

“Shouldn’t we warn them first?”

“Zen, how long have we got?” Jenna was already laying in a course.

+Approximately three minutes before entering strike range.+

“All right; quickly, Gan. You see if you can get through to them while I do this.”

Gan did so. “Blake?”

“Hello!” answered a youthful voice.

“There’s a ship heading this way...”

“Tell them we’re moving off station now,” interrupted Jenna.

“Who is it?” asked Blake.

“Federation,” Gan replied. There was a sigh from the other end of the line.

“I s’pose you’ll have to move, then. Why can’t they go away and leave us alone? We haven’t even found Vila’s lock yet.”

Any further childish complaint was cut off as the Liberator moved out of range; Gan and Jenna exchanged glances.

“Orac had better start thinking about how to get them back to normal, whether they find that device or not,” said Jenna. “I don’t know how long I could live with them all like that.”

.....................................................................................................................................

On the surface, Blake, even in his juvenile state, realised he had been cut off and what it meant.

“They’ve gone away,” he said, rather obviously.

“We could hear,” answered Avon. “It doesn’t mean we’ve got to stop what we came for.” They had stopped to wait while Blake spoke to Gan; now the communication was over, Avon was looking distinctly impatient.

Blake ignored him. “What are the Federation doing here?” This time he managed to get the word out in one, although it obviously took some concentration.

“Looking for us?” suggested Vila, with a worried expression.

“They don’t know we’re here.” Blake dismissed the idea, edging to the end of the corridor they were on and peering round the corner in what he clearly thought was a surreptitious manner, checking for signs of movement. “It’s safe. Hurry up.”

Everyone followed, trusting that they were heading in the right direction. The corridors were dark and unwelcoming; none of them wanted to stay any longer than necessary.

_Blake, wait._ Cally was the first of them to notice that the route ahead seemed to be getting lighter; Blake obediently stopped, looking back at her questioningly. The others halted a step behind.

“What?”

Cally held a finger to her lips. _There is a light ahead. I think there might be someone there. Be very careful._

Blake nodded, but carried on. He stopped again, however, when they heard a voice ahead of them demand,

“How much longer are you going to take with that thing?”

“Just a moment, sir.”

The light suddenly moved; judging by the direction of travel, the speakers were around the next corner. Motioning to her three small companions to stay still, Cally crept cautiously forward until she was in a position to see without being seen. She found herself looking at the back view of three men; one guard, his gun held carelessly at his side, another who appeared from his elaborate uniform to be the officer in charge, and a third, in a grey boiler suit rather than uniform, who was in the process of mending a door. A little curly head appeared at her elbow; recognising Blake, she stepped back to let him take her place.

“That’s all repaired now, sir,” said the man in the boiler suit, gathering his tools. “I’ve got rid of all the mess.”

Avon, on hearing this, craned forward over Blake’s shoulder.

“We’ll just see if they try again, then,” came the reply. “Only this time we’ll be ready for them. They must still be in the building. They’ll wish they’d never got in to begin with when we catch them; especially since we checked out those guns.” There was a menacing chuckle. “It seems we might have caught a prize for the Federation; a nice bargaining tool for us. They’re even sending a representative straight here to have a look. Very keen, they were. This little lot won’t stand a chance.”


	6. Chapter 6

Cally, standing with her back pressed against the wall, felt a tiny hand slip into hers as the officer outlined his plans. She looked down suspiciously; but one glance was enough to assure her it was only the involuntary reaction of a very frightened small boy.

_Avon. Blake. Come back a little._ She motioned the other two away from the corner; they withdrew far enough for safety, exchanging looks of dismay.

“If you hadn’t yelled for teleport we’d have got the bits before they did,” pointed out Avon, glaring furiously at Vila. “If we end up stuck like this...”

Vila only clung more tightly to Cally’s hand in response, earning himself a look of utter contempt from Avon. Blake remained oblivious; he was sucking his thumb again, apparently thinking.

“Let go, Vila,” said Cally firmly. “It’s all right.” The grip on her hand loosened, reluctantly.

“They told the Federation we were here,” Blake observed slowly. “Do you think that ship the others saw was the rep... rep...”

“Representative,” broke in Avon. “They must have been quite near, then. And you know who it’ll be.” Blake nodded ruefully. “So; do you have a plan?”

“Not yet.”

“Can’t we go back to the Liberator?” suggested Vila. Avon rounded on him.

“That’s a good idea. Orac wanted to analyse one of us, didn’t he? We could give him you.”

Vila hurriedly retreated a step or two and sat down on his toolbox, obviously deciding it was safer not to argue.

“We can’t go back yet,” Blake pointed out. “They aren’t there.”

“We can’t go back anyway, without the things for Orac,” retorted Avon. “If we do we might have to stay little for ever!” For a fleeting moment his desperation was clear; then he managed to get his voice under control. “Idiot,” he added, in as superior a tone as he could manage. “Hadn’t you thought of that?”

“Well, what do you think we should do, then, if you’re so clever?” Blake, not unnaturally, sounded put out.

“Find out what they’ve done to us, and we have to do that here...”

“As long as Travis doesn’t find us first!”

The discussion was getting dangerously heated; Cally was just about to step in and separate the small combatants when a little voice broke in,

“They’re going to hear you and come and catch us, and I didn’t want to come anyway...”

“Shut up, Vila,” snapped Blake.

“...and I think you should ask Cally what she thinks, ‘cause she’s still grown up and you’re not.”

Everyone stared at this unexpected demand; then, slowly, Blake looked up at Cally.

“All right; what do you think?” he demanded.

Cally shrugged. “We can’t very well go back while the others are out of range,” she said reasonably, “And I don’t think it’s safe to stay here for much longer.”

“We’ve got to do one or the other,” argued Avon.

“We should keep moving. We know there’s a Federation representative here...”

“Travis,” interrupted Blake.

“It’s always Travis,” said Avon. “I don’t know why you can’t just shoot him.”

“I’ve told you...”

“Enough!” Cally broke in before they could start arguing again. “Whether it is Travis or not, he doesn’t know we know he’s here. That leaves us with an advantage.”

“How?” asked Vila. He was still perched nervously on the toolbox, his feet just touching the ground.

“He won’t be hiding from us.”

“Oh. But we’re going to hide from him, aren’t we?”

“No; we’re going to find whatever they use to turn us back into grown-ups!” corrected Avon.

“Oh,” said Vila again. He hesitated, then announced miserably, “I think I’ve got a tummy ache.”

“Of course you have,” sighed Avon disparagingly, with a sceptical look.

“I have...” 

“It is a perfectly common stress reaction in small children,” agreed Cally, glancing down at the small child in question. He looked anxiously back at her. “It is nothing to worry about, Vila. It will go away if you think about something else.”

“But it hurts. And Travis has a scary hand.”

“Don’t worry,” said Blake fiercely. “He won’t get to use it.” Vila shuffled on his makeshift seat, still looking uncertain.

“Where do we have to go?” he asked warily. “Is it very far?”

“No.” Blake guessed the required answer.

“If they’ve mended the lock,” observed Avon, “They must have spare parts.”

“You mean we have to find where they keep them?” Blake gave him a questioning look; he nodded.

“They won’t be down here.”

“Why not?”

“This is the high security section. Spare parts aren’t that special.”

Blake nodded, seeing the logic of the argument; Cally, still aware that the longer they stayed where they were, the greater the chance of their being discovered, suggested,

“Perhaps we should find the service area.”

Two small heads nodded immediate agreement, pleased to be provided with a possible answer to the puzzle; one less eager little person slid forwards reluctantly until he was almost standing up.

“Are you sure Travis won’t catch us?”

“Are you sure he won’t catch you if you stay there without us?” returned Avon. Vila completed the transition to his feet remarkably swiftly.

“I’m coming too,” he wailed, hurrying after them as they went to find out if they could leave the section undetected.

The boiler-suited man was just visible, disappearing round a far corner; there was no sign of the other two.

“If he’s...” This time it was Avon who lost the word he wanted; the look he gave Cally was clearly daring her to mention it. “The man who mends things...”

“Maintenance?” suggested Cally. Avon appeared to simultaneously ignore her and file the word away for future reference.

“...then maybe he’s going to the service area.”

“Follow him?” said Blake, starting to do just that.

“Carefully,” Cally reminded him. He nodded, only half-attending; luckily their quarry, suspecting nothing, carried on walking ahead in the distance. He reached a lift and walked inside; they gave it time to depart, then went to follow his example, waiting at a safe distance in case there were any return passengers. When the lift doors opened, however, it was empty. 

They darted inside, Cally swiftly catching Vila by the arm as he reached for the buttons.

“We don’t want to stop on every floor,” she warned him. 

“I wasn’t...” He shuffled, avoiding her eye. “Which one can I press?”

“That one.” Avon, who had been watching the indicator when the maintenance man went up, pointed. Vila reached up eagerly, just managing to hit the button with his finger; then he remembered why they were in the lift, and his smile disappeared. He edged behind Cally while Blake and Avon waited by the doors, brandishing their guns threateningly.

Luckily, nobody was waiting at the other end. They stepped out into a corridor very like the one they had come from, only this time higher up and better lit. 

“Where do you think he went?” asked Blake, looking round.

“Maintenance unit,” read Avon from a sign on the wall, carefully not looking to see if anyone had noticed his momentary hesitation on the first word. He walked off down the corridor, following the arrow on the sign; Blake ran to overtake him.

_Blake!_ Cally didn’t dare shout out loud to remind him, but it was not her warning which stopped him dead in shock.

A door opened; a short, thin man in a brown dust coat came out, caught sight of Blake, and paused in the act of pulling the door shut. Taking in the other three intruders, he glanced round; then, mildly enough, he addressed Cally.

“You might want to tell the little one to tie his laces. Just in case you have to run.”


	7. Chapter 7

Cally looked down at Vila’s feet, then back at the man in front of them.

“Come in here.” He beckoned them into the room he had just been leaving; they followed him obediently, if warily, into a small office. “You’re from off-planet,” he observed.

“Yes,” Cally agreed as he shut the door behind them. Still taken aback at the turn of events, she said automatically, “Vila, tie your shoelaces.”

Vila studied his shoes, then sat down on the floor and took the lace ends in his hands with an expression of deep concentration. The others watched the little man, waiting to see what his next move would be.

“Who are you?” asked Blake bluntly.

“Tal,” answered their new ally, with a smile at the childish demand. Then he said, “How long since it happened?” There was no need to ask what ‘it’ was.

Blake and Avon looked at one another, then up at Cally.

“An hour or two?” she answered.

Tal looked relieved. “That’s all right,” he said. “Plenty of time.”

Cally was about to ask what he meant when she was distracted by a small foot being waved in her direction; she looked down at Vila, who had somehow managed to wriggle half on to his back while still holding his shoelaces, which were no nearer being tied than before.

“Will you do it?” he asked plaintively.

“Wait, Vila. What do you mean, plenty of time?”

Tal looked awkward; he was obviously trying to be gentle as he explained, “After twelve hours reversal becomes permanent. After that... well... usually the memory loss becomes total.”

Everyone stared at him in horror; Cally found her three small companions edging closer to her. Consciously or not, they were looking for reassurance from the nearest friendly adult, she realised.

“Then we have enough time to find a solution,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster.

“Are you sure?” Avon sounded as if he wanted to be convinced; Cally nodded firmly. Blake nodded too, mirroring her as if it would help make her reassurances true. His thumb-sucking was agitated enough to give away his doubts, however, and a tug on Cally’s leg warned her that Vila had attached himself to her again. She looked down to find him clinging to her with one hand, while the other was wrapped around his middle as if the threat of permanent, amnesiac childhood had caused a sudden recurrence of his stomach ache.

“We have plenty of time,” Cally repeated. She looked enquiringly at Tal. “You seem to know what happens. Can you help us?”

“There’s an antidote,” he told her, “But the only way to get it is to hand yourselves in.”

There was an ominous sniffle from Vila.

“That cannot be the only way,” Cally argued.

“It’s the only way we’ve ever found. Accept re-education and they’ll let you grow up again at the end...”

“I don’t think re-education is what they have in mind this time,” explained Cally. She hesitated, then decided that they had no choice but to trust Tal, and carried on, “There is a Federation representative here. They intend to hand us over to him.”

“Travis,” said Avon, “Or stop being us.” It was hardly a technical explanation, but it seemed to be the best he could come up with; and it was enough for Blake to nod in worried agreement.

“I don’t want to not be me,” he stated shakily.

“You want to go and hand yourself to Travis?” asked Avon.

“No!”

“We want to find the antidote,” said Cally. “They must keep it somewhere.” She looked questioningly at Tal, who nodded.

“There are specialist re-education centres,” he agreed. “But they’re impossible to get into...” 

Cally glanced down at Vila; he was clearly following the conversation, for he asked uncertainly,

“Like a school?”

“More like a prison,” answered Tal. “Only for children... well, ones like you.”

“I never broke _in_ to one of those before.” Vila didn’t sound sure if he wanted to now.

“Well, now you can,” Avon told him. “It’s not as if you haven’t ever been anywhere like that. You’ll fit in with all the other little criminals.”

Vila’s expression suggested any memory of the juvenile detention wards on Earth was not increasing his desire to break into one of the Loreal re-education centres.

“I don’t think I’m big enough,” he said seriously. “You’re meant to be at least seven to be a proper criminal, aren’t you, an’ I don’t think I am, yet.”

“That’s on Earth,” argued Blake.

“And this isn’t even a Federation planet.” Avon was equally quick to dismiss Vila’s protest. “Although it probably will be by the time you turn seven. If you ever do. You probably won’t, if we don’t get into the place.”

This rather tactless reminder only served to frighten his smaller crewmate even more.

“I don’t want to... I want to go home,” wailed Vila, making up his mind that the idea was too scary to be considered. “I don’t like it here. And my tummy’s still sore...”

“And your laces still aren’t tied,” reminded Cally in answer, hoping to distract him.

“But I can’t do it!” This time his howl of protest sounded as if he was dangerously close to tears; Cally hurriedly picked him up and sat him on the rickety table in the centre of the room. 

“There is no need to cry about it. It will only make you feel worse.”

“I can’t do it...”

“All right; we’ll help. Avon, why don’t you come and show Vila what to do instead of frightening him?”

Avon scowled.

“Left over right,” Blake began helpfully.

“There. Are you listening, Vila?” asked Cally. Vila sniffed, nodded, and looked blank. 

“Left over right.” Blake started again; Vila continued to stare, uncomprehending. Avon, surprisingly, was the first to realise what the problem was.

“Left,” he said, tapping Vila’s left hand. The look of confusion cleared slightly. “Right.” Avon tapped the other hand; Vila nodded eagerly, and attempted to follow Blake’s instruction now he understood it. “How do you manage locks if you can’t even do that?”

“Locks are easy,” said Vila, as if that explained everything.

“Do you think you can manage the locks at the re-education centre, then?” pressed Cally gently. Vila thought for a moment, then nodded again.

“You promise I won’t get re-educationed?”

“They’d have to educate you in the first place,” Avon told him. He glared so horribly in return that Cally had to look away before she laughed; catching Tal doing much the same, she pulled herself together.

“Can you direct us to one of these centres?”

“Yes; but it’s quite some distance away.” He glanced back at the other three. “They’ll probably be very tired if you have to walk.”

“That may not be a problem. Blake, are Jenna and Gan back yet?”

Blake checked obediently, speaking quite clearly to his wrist. “Jenna, are you and Gan back yet?”

Tal looked mystified by this sight; he glanced at Cally for an explanation as the answer came through.

“We’ve just come back into range now. How are you getting on?”


	8. Chapter 8

“We’re still all little,” reported Blake, in tones which made this all too apparent. “They’ve cleaned away all the lock that blowed up and we couldn’t get it, but now we’ve found somebody who’s going to help us.”

There was a slight hesitation before Jenna’s answer.

“I see,” she said. “Is Cally there?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I could speak to her?”

“All right.” Blake held his teleport bracelet up as near Cally’s face as he could; she smiled and pushed it away.

“I have my own,” she reminded him. “Jenna, what Blake says is right. But we need teleport; and we need another bracelet, I think.” She glanced across at their new companion, who was looking as mystified as ever.

“Teleport?” he asked, as Jenna replied,

“I’ll send Gan down.”

“You will see in a moment.” Tal did; he jumped as Gan suddenly appeared in a surround of white light. 

“What the...” He stared, then realised Gan was considerably bigger than him, and averted his gaze. “You did say you were from off-planet,” he murmured weakly.

“It’s not any stranger than shrinking people,” pointed out Avon. 

“No...”

“What have you been up to, then?” inquired Gan, addressing the three smaller members of the party while handing Cally the spare teleport bracelet he carried.

“Nothing!” He grinned at Vila’s hurried denial.

“I didn’t mean like that...”

“We’ve been trying to fix what the stupid little idiot did to us,” said Avon coldly, “And if we don’t hurry up we’re going to stick like this.” Vila wilted under his accusatory glare.

“I didn’t,” he protested. “I didn’t mean to...” 

“No, you’re not clever enough to have planned it.”

Vila appeared to have no immediate answer to this; but before he could think of one, Cally passed the spare teleport bracelet to Tal.

“Put this on. If we go back to our ship, then we can get the coordinates of the re-education centre. That way we won’t have to walk.”

“My feet are tired,” Vila agreed, forgetting Avon’s insults as their new ally fumbled with the bracelet. “And I want a drink. Can I have a drink, Cally?”

“No! You’re far too small, for one thing.” Cally failed to notice the look of utter bewilderment her answer produced, being too intent on checking Tal’s bracelet was on correctly. “Is everyone ready?” There were a series of nods. “Jenna, bring us up.”

.....................................................................................................................................

They had hardly materialised in the teleport bay before a little voice could be heard protesting,

“But why can’t I have a drink? And I’m hungry...”

“No, Vila!” repeated Cally.

Jenna looked up from the teleport controls, noting the extra member of the party. Tal smiled uncertainly back, gazing round at his unexpected surroundings.

“This is Tal. He’s going to help us,” Blake explained. “He knows how they turn us back into grown-ups.”

“Good,” answered Jenna with feeling, her heart sinking as Vila’s fractious wails grew more insistent.

“I’m _hungry_...”

“If we get you something to eat will you be quiet?” she demanded.

Vila nodded; then added, as if he had suddenly remembered an often-repeated instruction, “Please?”

“We haven’t got time,” Avon argued. “We need to go _now_! I don’t want to be shrunk for ever, even if nobody else cares!”

“Oh, we care,” Jenna assured him. She looked across at Cally. “What exactly is happening?”

“Tal has told us that there are re-education centres on the planet where an antidote is kept; we need Orac to find the exact coordinates so that we can use the teleport to get inside. We are running out of time. There are about ten hours left before their memories are wiped and they’re left like that permanently.”

Jenna and Gan, who had missed this warning earlier, looked horrified; they were left speechless as Cally added,

“And that ship you warned us about was bringing a Federation representative, looking for us. We think it may be Travis.”

“Jenna, please, you said...”

“All right, Vila, in a minute!” Jenna pulled herself together. “I suppose I’d better get him something while you deal with Orac.” Avon and Blake, she noticed, had already disappeared. “If those two haven’t started already... hadn’t we better check what they’re doing?”

“Yes,” Cally agreed. She beckoned Tal to follow as they headed to the flight deck; Gan gave their stunned-looking visitor a reassuring smile as he tagged along.

As they had half expected, they found the little pair perched on the couch, leaning towards the computer on the table. “My current research is most interesting,” Orac was saying peevishly. “I do not intend to be distracted from it by your childish questions.” Avon looked furious, Blake impatient.

“But it’s important, Orac,” he said seriously.

“So is my research.”

“Orac,” interrupted Cally, “Just tell us what we want to know.”

“Oh, very well.” Orac almost sighed with impatience, but seemed prepared to give in to an adult demand. “What is it?”

“The coordinates to the nearest re-education centre, and anything you can find out which might help us get inside.”

Vila tugged at Jenna’s sleeve. “They’re going to take ages...” She, too, sighed; but she could see she would get no peace until she produced food as promised.

“You stay and listen to Orac, then.” He clambered obediently on to the couch as she left, shuffling along to let Gan and their visitor sit down.

“There are numerous data banks which I would need to search...”

“Then get on with it!” Avon’s voice rose in frustration. Orac made no actual reply, but his electronic whine seemed to hold a suggestion of outrage.

Tal glanced at Gan, hoping for an explanation of what he had walked into.

“He’s very clever,” said Gan. Tal took this to mean Orac, and nodded meekly. He looked almost relieved when Jenna walked back in with a plate of biscuits; such domestic behaviour he at least understood. 

“What made you decide to help?” she inquired, as she laid the plate down.

“It’s not right, is it? Doing that to people. They got my brother once. And then the second time, that was it.” He drew a finger across his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“He wouldn’t hand himself in again. They don’t like it, anyway, when it doesn’t work, so maybe he was right, but...” Tal shrugged, his face creasing at a painful memory. “I hope we can fix your friends,” he said, to change the subject.

“So do we.”

“The coordinates of the nearest re-education centre are six-two-four, five-zero-one,” Orac suddenly announced. “Security is relatively basic. Escape is discouraged by the withholding of drugs.”

“There’s a stabiliser they give them,” Tal explained, “To keep them... well, like that,” he nodded towards Blake, Avon and Vila, “While they’re being re-educated. Then at the end they get the antidote.”

“That is a very simplified version of the process.” Orac sounded nettled that someone else could explain the answer. “No doubt it will suffice for the intelligence levels I am currently being required to deal with, however. Now, if that is all...”

“It is.” Avon was back on his feet, trying to drag Cally by the hand in his impatience to leave; Blake was only an instant behind him. “We know where we’re going now, so can’t we _go_?”

“Can I stay here this time?” asked Vila hopefully.

“No. We need you to get in,” Cally reminded him.

“And if you did stay, think what would happen if we couldn’t bring you any antidote,” added Avon. Vila thought; his eyes widened. 

“Me too!” he exclaimed, hurriedly scrambling to the floor.

“Do you want to take some of the biscuits?” Gan asked him. He shook his head; Gan looked surprised, until Jenna pointed out the depleted plate. 

“I don’t imagine he does,” she said dryly. “Cally, you’d better watch him to see he isn’t sick.”

“Wasn’t just me,” said Vila indignantly, pointing at the others.

“I only had one!” denied Blake. “‘Cause I’ve got a wobbly tooth.” He wiggled a front tooth with his tongue to prove this; Cally fixed him with a serious look.

“Then don’t play with it. If it falls out now it might not grow back when you are turned back into an adult.” He looked alarmed, but managed, somehow, to leave the offending tooth alone. “Now, we have the coordinates; Jenna, will you come and put us back down?” She began to shepherd Blake and Vila in the direction of the teleport before anything else could distract them; Avon led the way, needing no encouragement.

Jenna followed, waiting until Cally, Tal and their three small charges had crowded into the teleport bay; then she entered the coordinates Orac had given them. They faded away; hopefully, she thought, to the right place.

What she had not expected was the worried message which came through the communicator shortly afterwards.

“Jenna, Travis is here!” It was unmistakably Blake’s voice, or at least the small version of Blake. “And so is Servalan!”


	9. Chapter 9

Orac’s coordinates had indeed been correct, setting the party down just inside the boundary of a dark, forbidding building. They moved into the shadow of a wall, aware that they might be seen through the railings dividing the yard ahead. On the other side, a group of small children shuffled unhappily from foot to foot, a blue-uniformed guard watching them. Most of them seemed well aware of what was happening to them; but two or three, standing near the back, gaped about in confusion.

“They’ve waited too long,” whispered Tal, pointing out the blank little faces at the back. “If they’ve made it here it’s because they’ve been rounded up. It’s the wrong time of day for a sweep; so they must be looking for you.”

“What will happen to them?” Blake asked.

“Those ones? They can’t be re-educated, so they’ll end up as slave labour. Mining, perhaps. Or if they’re small enough,” Tal glanced involuntarily at Vila, “Cleaning out the heating and ventilation systems. They fit down inside the narrow channels.”

“That’s appalling!” exclaimed Cally indignantly. “It will kill them!”

“I didn’t say I liked it.”

Cally might have remonstrated further, but a small hand suddenly shook her arm.

“Cally, look...” Blake pointed across the yard; she pulled his hand back before he could draw attention to them.

“I can see. Quiet,” she warned. They watched nervously as another guard led two familiar figures out to view the assembled children.

“They’re not here.” Travis’s voice carried across the yard. He sounded angry; his fellow visitor, however, seemed more intrigued.

“So this is what you meant?” Cally could feel Vila shivering beside her as Servalan spoke; she laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Blake and his crew will be in this state?”

“That’s right,” the guard agreed. Servalan gave a faint laugh.

“How unfortunate for them. And how very fortunate for us. Surely they won’t give you any trouble this time, Travis?”

“If we find them in time. I want to kill Blake while he still knows who I am.”

Cally saw, out of the corner of her eye, Avon’s hand twitch over his gun.

_No, Avon, you will only miss from here,_ she warned.

“Will I?” He sounded as if he had taken the warning as a challenge.

_Yes. And be quiet, or they will hear us. I can see why Zen didn’t want to give you a gun, if you won’t be sensible with it._

Avon looked murderous at this rebuke. Judging by his face, Cally suspected she had just been added to his mental kill list; in other circumstances, she might have been amused. At the moment, she was too worried about the possibility of Servalan or Travis spotting them across the yard. Even if she were to call for teleport, the slightest delay would leave them presenting the perfect target; and it would get them no nearer the antidote they were searching for. She looked again at the bewildered little figures about to be pressed into slavery, and shuddered as she thought of the same fate awaiting her crewmates.

“You would still recognise them?” the guard was asking the visitors.

“Oh, yes,” Servalan assured him. “I’m sure Travis could recognise Blake no matter what. And as for the others, well, they’ll be with him. That will be enough.”

Cally, still looking for a means of escape, spotted a door further along the wall. Cautiously leaning across to Tal, she whispered, 

“If we could get in there...”

He saw where she was looking, and gave the faintest nod.

“I’ll distract them,” he offered. “Tell them I’ve seen you. In the opposite direction.”

“Are you sure?” He nodded again, setting off before Cally had a chance to stop him.

“Hey!” he yelled, running across the yard in a passable impression of a man who had come some considerable distance. “Hey! Is it you I need to speak to?”

Cally didn’t wait to see if he was successful. Taking the chance, she hustled the other three along to the door. Blake tried the handle immediately, but the door stayed obstinately shut; Cally had to lift Vila and balance him on her knee so he could reach the lock. Small or not, he was certainly frightened enough to open it; within seconds they were out of sight of the yard.

“What about Tal?” asked Blake, now that it was safe to speak.

“He isn’t coming,” answered Cally, releasing Vila back to the floor. “He went to stop anyone from seeing us while we got inside.”

“But won’t they shrink him?” Blake persisted.

“I hope not.”

“But what if they do?”

“Never mind him, what about us?” said Avon. “Where are we?” They looked round; if they had found the back door to the re-education centre, it was not immediately apparent. Bland white walls gave no indication of what the room they were in was used for; but another door on the far side told them that at least it was not a dead end. “I suppose we go that way.”

“We had better warn the others first,” Cally suggested. “If they have to come after us for any reason, then they should know about Servalan and Travis.”

Blake immediately complied.

“Jenna, Travis is here! And so is Servalan.”

“What?!” Jenna’s voice came back over the communicator, shocked.

“It’s all right, they haven’t seen us.”

“And we’re going to make sure it stays that way,” added Cally, suspecting Jenna might appreciate some adult reassurance. “We are inside the building now, and we’re hoping they’ve been diverted elsewhere.”

“I hope you’re right!”

“We’ll let you know when we’re ready to come back up.” The warning given, Cally went to try the other door; this one opened. Avon and Blake darted round her to investigate; Vila hesitated, still standing in the middle of the room. “Come on, Vila. What’s the matter?”

“They’ll all be little in there, like us, won’t they?” he queried slowly.

“Well, yes. I would think so,” agreed Cally.

“But you’re not.”

“No...”

“So if they see you they’ll know it’s not right and what if they shrink you too?” The fearful question came out in a rush; Cally tried to think of something reassuring to say, but she was beaten to it by Avon.

“Maybe Cally won’t shrink, because she’s from Auron,” he suggested. He looked as if he was considering it more as a matter of interest than as a way of consoling Vila’s fears.

“How alien do you think I am?” demanded Cally. Avon pretended not to have heard; she decided it was better not to press the question. “Come on, Vila. I will be very careful. And the sooner we find you the antidote the better.” 

Vila still looked worried, but he joined the others at the door.

“I’m cold,” he said shakily, peering out into an empty passageway.

“You’ll warm up when we start moving.”

“You’ll warm up if you stay here long enough to be caught and they put you down a heating vent,” Avon told him. “I bet they don’t turn the heating off first.”

Vila looked up at Cally in terror; she sighed.

“Nobody is going to put you down a heating vent, Vila.”

“He’d probably stick, anyway, after all those biscuits,” Avon remarked.

“Well, we aren’t going to find out,” said Cally firmly. She took Vila by the hand to get him moving. “You aren’t that cold.”

“I am,” he insisted, allowing her to lead him into the passage. “Outside was very cold.” Cally, remembering Servalan’s outfit, was not convinced by the accuracy of this statement; but she refrained from comment.

“We’re inside now,”she encouraged him.

“But it’s still cold. And my feet don’t want to walk any more.”

“You’re not cold at all.” Cally felt his hand again. “I know you’re tired, but so is everyone else.”

“Maybe he’s caught something from that lock,” suggested Avon. “If they can put something in a lock to make you get smaller, they can probably do it to make you ill. They still need to stop people escaping, and they can’t shrink them twice...”

“But we were coming in,” argued Blake. “Not escaping.”

“The door wouldn’t know that.”

Cally was about to tell them to be quiet, seeing how frightened Vila was by the suggestion; but they fell silent of their own accord as a snatch of conversation carried from somewhere further ahead of them.

“This is quite a fascinating facility you have here,” Servalan’s familiar voice drifted along the passageway. “And very efficient. Will it be easier to get the information from that... person... now he has been reduced in size?”


	10. Chapter 10

They ran.

Somewhere behind them, a door banged open; but nobody stopped to look. Avon, his feet slipping on the tiled floor, put a hand out to steady himself, and inadvertently found a door of his own. He bit back a cry, trying to look as if toppling sideways through the wall had been deliberate. Perhaps luckily, everyone was too busy following him to notice.

Cally came last, swiftly fitting the door back into place. It was almost concealed, she realised; closed, it looked more like a wall panel. She could see why they had failed to notice it earlier; she could only hope their pursuers, if there were any, would miss it too.

“Did they see us?” panted Blake.

“I don’t think so, but they must have heard us.” It was amazing, she thought, how noisy such small feet had been on the tiles. “We should be very quiet now.” She suddenly realised Avon was still sitting on the floor, ignoring Blake’s attempt to help him up; dropping to her knees beside him, she asked, “What’s the matter? Have you hurt yourself?”

Avon hesitated, then nodded. 

“What have you done?”

“When I fell over...” He held his hand out for inspection, flinching slightly as Cally took it. The other two watched anxiously over her shoulder. “My wrist.”

“Can you bend your fingers?”

He tried; it obviously hurt, but he nodded again. “Yes.”

“We can fix it on the Liberator, anyway,” said Blake brightly.

“We’re not on the Liberator,” pointed out Avon, sounding furious. “And I’m not going back until we’ve found the antidote, because what’s the point in still having two hands if you don’t know who you are to use them?”

“You do still have two hands.” Cally, afraid they were going to start arguing again, stepped in. “Your wrist will be very sore; but I don’t think you’ve broken anything. We should find something to splint it with. At least it might be more comfortable then.” She looked round the room, hoping to find something to improvise with. 

Their surroundings, now she had time to consider them, were puzzling. Instead of the juvenile prison she had been expecting, this room resembled nothing more forbidding than a child’s playroom. One corner was full of toys, which she could see Vila glancing tentatively at; another contained book-screens and a pile of cushions, obviously meant for small readers to sit on. A miniature table and chairs in the centre completed the impression.

“Why don’t you go and sit there while we see if we can find something?” she suggested, getting up and lifting Avon to his feet. He looked mildly affronted at having to be picked up off the floor; but he went and commandeered the little table with as much dignity as he could muster, still holding his wrist awkwardly against himself.

“We can’t just sit here all day,” he said crossly.

“No. But if we are safe here for the moment, we might as well give them time to go and search for us somewhere else.” Cally suddenly remembered Servalan’s comment about someone ‘reduced in size’, and wondered if Tal had been unlucky after all. There was not much he could give away, but he could confirm they were in the building somewhere, she realised. 

Running footsteps outside warned her that the search had quite probably begun; she moved to draw her gun, aware of Blake doing the same and Avon trying to. 

“Of course it was them!” The voice was unmistakably Travis; they held their breath, waiting for him to storm in. “Get after them! You must have some idea where they could have gone!” To their relief, the footsteps faded away; obviously whoever Travis was with had not thought of them hiding anywhere so close. They all breathed again.

“We wait,” said Cally firmly. Nobody argued; still eyeing the door, Blake went to join Avon at the table. Vila hung back.

“Cally,” he whispered.

“What is it?”

“I feel sick.”

Cally looked at him closely, trying to work out if the complaint was to be taken seriously or not.

“Are you sure?” she asked. He nodded unhappily, his eyes cast down. “Well, we’re going to sit quietly here for a bit, and you can have a rest. Do you think you might feel better then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Travis isn’t coming in here.” Blake took a hand in the conversation, trying to reassure his smaller companion; Vila still looked miserable. “Or Servalan.”

“If they do they won’t last long,” said Avon. Having managed to get to his gun one-handed, he had left it lying on the table; judging by his expression, he was itching for an excuse to use it.

“Avon, you can’t just shoot people if you don’t like them,” Cally told him.

“Why not?”

Cally gave up. “Go and sit down, Vila. I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.” She hoped there was nothing more wrong with him than fright and tiredness, but stopped short of suggesting it, disinclined to offer an excuse for further complaints. Vila, with some reluctance, headed for the cushions in the corner and curled up on them with his eyes closed.

Avon watched in disgust. “I’m all right,” he said pointedly, if not quite truthfully.

“You are older than him,” Cally reminded him. “And he’s very tired.” Avon looked unconvinced. He was about to offer further protest; but before he could say anything, Blake suddenly asked,

“What is this room for?” The question was to himself as much as anyone, but Cally answered anyway, glad of the interruption. 

“I’m not sure.” She looked round again. Something, she was certain, was not right. From what she knew of re-education, it did not involve presenting the subjects with a room full of toys and games, and Blake was obviously thinking the same thing.

“They keep it secret,” Avon put in. “You can’t see the door.” He thought about this for a moment, then added, “Maybe it’s not the only door.”

Cally remembered the footsteps, and the possibility that Travis might yet come back, with or without Servalan. “I think if there is another door, we need to find it,” she suggested.

Blake and Avon got up to explore, carefully examining the walls.

“Vila’s asleep,” reported Blake, as he reached the far corner. 

“Then leave him asleep,” said Cally quickly. “It will probably do him good.” The thought of an infant Vila being suddenly woken up was not one she wished to contemplate, especially if he really was feeling sick; it was bad enough having one of her small companions injured without another deciding to be ill.

He’s always asleep,” observed Avon. “Don’t you prefer him like that?” Dismissing the matter, he added, “I can’t see another door.” He went to the one they had come in, and very cautiously tried it with his good hand. “And this one doesn’t open now.”

“What?” Cally hurried to his side and tried for herself, a little more forcefully. To her dismay, the door still didn’t budge.

“Let me have a go.” Blake lent his efforts, to no avail.

“It must only open from the outside,” suggested Avon.

“So we’re trapped.” Blake looked round again. “But why would they want to trap us in here?”

“Not us. We weren’t supposed to find it,” Avon corrected him.

“Well, anybody,” he amended. “It’s nice in here, for little people.” This was said in a manner which made it obvious that Blake did not consider himself a ‘little person’; Cally hid a smile.

“You don’t expect nasty things to happen in nice places,” said Avon darkly. Blake gave him an uncertain look; he carried on, “If they made you wait for something horrible they’d do it... in a dungeon, or something. So if they lock people in here, they won’t think they’re about to be tortured...”

“Avon, that’s enough,” said Cally sharply.

“You wanted to know what it was for!”

“We want to know if there’s another way out, not what horror stories you can think of.”

“Wake Vila up, then.” Avon turned away, unwilling to be told off. “Make him open the door.” He moved as if to do exactly that; Cally held him back.

“Not yet. We’ll finish looking first.”

“We have looked...” He tailed off as the footsteps outside returned, suddenly no longer fighting Cally’s hand on his shoulder.

“Where else are they going to be?” It was Travis again; Blake took an involuntary step backwards as there was a pounding on the other side of the door. “We know you’re in there, Blake! Open the door and come out; there’s a good boy.”

Travis appeared to see some humour in his choice of words; Blake just looked affronted. Cally, seeing this, put a warning finger to her lips. The pounding on the door started again.

“Come on, Blake, give up. Make it easy for yourself. What are you going to do? Bite me in the ankles?” This time the shouting produced a whimper from the corner of the room; Cally hurried to shush Vila before he could give them away. He made a sleepy noise which she roughly interpreted as,

“What is it?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” she assured him softly. “Just be quiet.”

“I don’t think he wants to play, Travis.” This time it was Servalan’s voice they heard, sounding faintly amused. “Can this door be opened by you?” She was obviously asking someone with them, for a third voice answered,

“I can have it done, but they’ll only open in sequence. If that door’s shut after them the next to open’s the one into the medical laboratory...”

“I told you,” hissed Avon.

“... and they’ll be able to get through it before we can get through this one.”

“Then we will have to find them in there. I take it that will be easy enough?”

Vila whimpered again, still more than half asleep, as the unknown voice outside agreed,

“Oh, yes.”

“In that case I suggest you open the door.” Some unintelligible noises followed, accompanied by,

“Get on with it!” from Travis.

Blake and Avon backed further across the room, still determinedly clutching their guns, then stopped in surprise as a shelving unit seemed to move.

_Go!_ Cally saw it too; she did not waste time stopping to wake Vila, but picked him up and carried him, his head lolling over her shoulder as she hurried the others towards the opening in the wall revealed by the shelves.

“I’m coming, Blake!” bellowed Travis.

“Ready or not,” added Servalan. Her tone was almost playful; her intentions, they knew, were anything but.


	11. Chapter 11

The medical laboratory, Cally thought, was probably exactly where they wanted to be if they were to find the antidote they needed; but there was no time to stop and look for it now. She hustled little Avon and Blake into a side room and closed the door before they could be seen, then gestured to them to find a hiding place. 

Vila stirred and leant back to look at her, his face confused; she covered his mouth with her hand before he could speak. He looked startled, then frightened, clinging round her neck as he realised what was happening.

“Let go. We need to hide,” Cally whispered, already trying to detach him and follow the others to the laboratory bench they had crawled under.

“Teleport?” he queried.

“No time.” Even if there had been, it would have got them no nearer what they were looking for; and the clock was ticking for three of the party. Vila seemed to accept this, for he wriggled to the floor and crawled after the others, huddling against the back corner of the bench. Cally crouched down beside them. She hoped the search party would go straight past and leave them to get on with their own search; but the door opened, all the same.

Three small people froze, two of them looking very pale; Cally, too, held her breath, getting ready to fire.

“No one in here.” The door closed again; there was an audible sigh of relief from underneath the bench. Blake began to crawl out immediately; Avon and Vila were slower.

“If this is a medical unit we might be able to get something for your wrist,” Cally offered.

“It doesn’t matter.” Avon sounded put out that she had noticed it was hurting him.

“Yes, it does,” she said. He scowled blackly; Cally went on, “There is no point in making it worse just to prove some silly point of your own.” Seeing he was still unconvinced, she tried a different tack. “Anyway, you’re the eldest; I might want your help. I think someone needs to watch Vila.”

“Blake can. I’m not. I’ve seen enough of him already.”

Vila ignored this insult. “I still feel sick,” he complained, attempting to lean against Cally rather than make the effort to stand up on his own.

“You shouldn’t have eaten so much, then,” Blake told him.

“I didn’t. Cally, tell him, that’s not fair, I didn’t...”

“All right, you didn’t; except you’re about a quarter of the size you usually are,” interrupted Avon irritably. “Or hadn’t you noticed?” Vila stopped in mid-protest, and glanced anxiously at Cally in the hope of backup.

“I’m not that little.” 

“You’re not that big, either,” said Cally. “I think Avon might be right.”

“I usually am,” Avon admitted. Vila sagged against Cally’s leg, defeated.

“But it hurts...” he began.

“I expect it does,” agreed Cally matter-of-factly.

“...and I need a drink...”

“That is the last thing you need. You seem to have done quite enough to make yourself feel ill already.” She took a step forward; Vila, not expecting his prop to move, staggered and sat down hard. Cally stopped, rather guiltily. “That wouldn’t have happened if you’d been paying attention. Are you all right?” He nodded half-heartedly, not looking at her, as Blake picked him up again.

“Do you think they’ve gone?” asked Blake.

“I hope so.” Avon hung back, even so, letting Cally check whether the coast was clear.

“I can’t see or hear them, but we need to be careful,” she reported. Two little heads nodded; Vila just stared at the floor. “Are you listening, Vila?”

“Yes.” His reply was barely audible.

“What did I just say?”

“You said be careful,” he answered, still no louder.

“Well, come on, then; keep up. We don’t want to give them time to come back.” 

He tagged on with the others as they followed Cally back into the main laboratory, blinking in the light. It seemed deserted; Cally and Blake kept hold of their guns anyway. They tried not to look at their surroundings too closely, not wanting to think of what probably went on there. 

“Are they next? We’re in here.” Blake jumped in surprise as a voice hailed them from behind; Cally spun round, her gun already aimed at the speaker. He looked startled. “What...”

“Next for what?” she demanded.

“Initial treatment?” The answer came out almost as a squeak; the speaker, a good-looking young man in a white laboratory coat, seemed frozen where he stood, still clutching the handle of one of the side doors.

“Is there anyone else in there?” Cally went closer, still menacing him with her gun; Blake, having recovered from his initial surprise, followed as backup.

The young man shook his head vigorously. “N...no.” He backed away, back into the room he had come from; they all followed him, Avon closing the door behind them. “What... what do you want? Who are you?”

“We want the antidote to your reversal process,” Cally told him coolly. He squeaked again.

“I haven’t got it!”

“Then who has?”

The young man gaped wordlessly; Avon managed to draw his gun and marched up to him.

“Who has?” He repeated Cally’s question, trying to sound threatening and only managing to sound like an angry small boy. It was still enough to scare their prisoner; even little Vila looked unimpressed by how swiftly he crumbled.

“Not me! They don’t keep much of it... at a time... you’re not really going to shoot me, are you? Please don’t shoot me!”

Avon looked as if he would have liked to do exactly that, but he retained enough sense to realise he was more likely to get an answer if he refrained for the moment.

“Where do they keep it, then?”

“In the lab.” The young man relaxed slightly at a question he could answer. “They only make small batches when they need to. In case... in case anyone tries to steal any.” Avon continued to stare silently at him. “It’s a very successful re-education programme; a lot of them... you... er... them... grow out of unwanted tendencies, but there’s always one or two... we have a safety measure built in now, though.” He almost looked pleased with himself; Cally looked disgusted.

“And what is that?” she inquired. The young man’s smile faded at her tone, but he answered,

“An addition to the reversal substance. If they persist in whatever caused it to be activated while we have them here, they fall ill. Not seriously,” he added hurriedly, as Avon and Blake both brought their guns close enough to touch him, “Just enough to act as a deterrent.” Cally also took a step closer; he licked his lips nervously, trying to work out what he had said wrong. “It’s psychological, isn’t it? If they associate whatever they’re doing with feeling ill, they should stop. If they still don’t, well, we don’t waste our time...”

“What’s psych... what he said?” inquired a small, worried voice. “Is that why I’m not well, Cally? ‘Cause I didn’t have that many biscuits, really. And even if I did,” Vila went on, sounding very like he was making an inadvertent confession, “I’m all cold and achy everywhere, too. Have I got something very bad?”

“Me and Avon are all right,” said Blake doubtfully, without moving his gun. Avon appeared to be on the verge of kneecapping their prisoner; Cally frowned at him.

“Not yet, Avon,” she said. The man looked alarmed, obviously deciding ‘not yet’ meant ‘soon’.

“You said you wouldn’t shoot me!”

“Did we?” said Avon disinterestedly.

“Vila was the only one who had to open the lock to get in... What is wrong with him?” Cally demanded.

“Nothing much... I don’t know what it is! It mimics Caliphon juvenile influenza, I think... I don’t know!”

“You don’t know very much, do you?” observed Blake.

“I hope you know how to make him better,” Avon added.

“There’s no cure.” The young man’s voice shook; small or not, Avon seemed to frighten him. “We can treat the symptoms, if he’s salvageable material, but you’ll have to wait for him to get over it. They usually do, with treatment.”

“Not good enough.”

“All right... wait! There is a way to cure him...”

“Which is?” Cally, aware that every passing moment increased the chances of Travis and Servalan returning, tried to hurry their prisoner’s answer.

“It doesn’t affect adults.”

“The antidote,” said Blake. Their prisoner nodded eagerly.

“So where is it?” Avon asked again.

“I told you, in the lab... it’s down there!” He pointed wildly in the direction they had been heading before he hailed them. Avon turned straight for the door; as he did so, his gun went off. Their prisoner leapt into the air with a yell.

“My hand slipped,” said Avon unapologetically. “My wrist hurts.” He still held the gun pointing carelessly at the young man.

“I...if you go to the dispensary there’ll be painkiller solution there.” If their prisoner expected his stammered answer to earn him any favours, he was bound to be disappointed. “It’s on your way... you’ll need to, for him, anyway...” He pointed to Vila, who had begun to cough pathetically. “You won’t shoot me now, will you? I’ve tried to help...”

“We won’t shoot you,” Blake confirmed. Avon looked annoyed.

“He’ll talk if they come back,” he warned.

“We’ll have gone by then.”

“You hope.”

“We won’t have if you keep arguing about it,” Cally reminded them. The young man looked relieved at her interjection; he appeared not to quite trust Avon to keep the promise Blake had made. “We will lock the door on the way out; and if we hear any noise we will come back. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” He was back to squeaking again.

“Good.”


	12. Chapter 12

They locked the door on the way out, reasoning that if the young man was left a prisoner he would at least have less opportunity to give them away.

“Do you think he will shout?” asked Blake doubtfully. “He was scared.”

“He wouldn’t shout if you’d let me shoot him.” Avon still sounded annoyed; Cally suspected the effort of trying to hide his injured wrist was beginning to tell.

“You nearly did,” she pointed out. “No wonder he was afraid of you! I would be, if you were pointing a gun you couldn’t handle properly at me. If it’s too difficult, leave it to us, or you might shoot one of us by accident.”

Avon scuffed his toe on the floor. “I can manage.” Cally sighed at this stubborn reply. Any further attempt to remonstrate, however, was halted as a little voice interrupted from behind them.

“Cally, my legs have stopped walking.”

“They’d better start again if you don’t want to be here when Travis comes back,” said Avon irritably. Cally frowned at him; Vila shivered, and gave another cough.

“I really feel very sick,” he said plaintively.

“So you keep telling us,” snapped Avon. “Maybe if you get worse, at least you’ll be quiet.” Vila recoiled, looking away.

“Avon, leave him alone; he really isn’t well.” Cally thought of their prisoner’s suggestion that they visit the dispensary, and decided it was a risk that would have to be taken. Vila was small enough to be a worry if he had developed something akin to ‘flu; and Avon’s temper seemed to be deteriorating rapidly, which she could only put down to his wrist paining him. “Can you walk a bit further?” she coaxed Vila. He shook his head.

“We can’t leave him here,” protested Blake.

“I wasn’t going to.” Cally lifted Vila on to her hip to carry him, trying not to imagine what the adult version would have had to say about it. The tiny one only clung to her and coughed feebly. “Not in my face, Vila!”

“Sorry.” A hot little head rested against her shoulder. “That man said I’ve got something nasty, didn’t he? Was he right? Am I going to get better?” He was obviously still worried.

“Yes,” answered Cally firmly. “We’re going to find the antidote now, and you’ll all be perfectly fine when you’re grown up again.” She glanced at the other two. “Are you still feeling all right?”

“Yes,” confirmed Blake, yawning. Avon gave a less convincing half-nod.

“Are you sure?” She reached for his good hand to check, relieved when it felt normal.

“I’m not a baby,” he said coldly. “I don’t need you to hold my hand.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” retorted Cally, letting go. “Off you go, then.” He looked awkward for a moment, then stalked ahead, ignoring Blake’s attempt to stay in front.

They found the dispensary quite easily, despite the vagueness of the young man’s directions.

“We haven’t got time,” protested Avon, as Cally stopped.

“Then we will have to make time,” she told him. “We need you in one piece. Look at Vila. If we run into trouble, do you think I can cope with him as well as get us out of it, with only Blake to help?” Blake looked rather indignant at this; Avon, after considering for a moment, opened the dispensary door. It was unoccupied. Blake, still ruffled at Cally’s comment, led the way in.

“How do we know what everything is?” he queried, looking round at the shelves full of bottles and jars.

“They’re labelled,” said Avon. Can’t you read?”

“Yes!” Blake investigated the shelves more closely. “But some of them have very long names,” he observed uncertainly.

“I think I had better find what we’re looking for,” suggested Cally. Nobody argued; Blake and Avon perched on a large storage chest to watch as she searched through the bottles. “I’m going to have to put you down, Vila...” He slid to the floor, limp and unprotesting, and sat there drooping.

“What’s that?” he asked, as Cally began to collect some pill jars.

“Do you remember Tal telling us about a drug that will stabilise you as you are?”

“Yes,” confirmed Blake.

“Well, this is it. It might be useful if we had some. Then if we can’t find the antidote, at least you’ll be safe enough until Orac can come up with a solution.”

The three smaller members of the party did not look entirely reassured.

“You said I wouldn’t feel better until I’m grown up,” said Vila, his voice wavering. “If I have to stay little will I be not well for ever?”

“No... look, this is what you need.” Cally picked up a bottle of thick purple liquid and showed him; he looked doubtful. Rummaging in a box beside the bottles, she found a spoon, and poured some out. “Here.” Reluctantly, Vila opened his mouth, screwing his eyes tightly shut as he swallowed; then he opened them again, looking vaguely surprised.

“It’s nice!” he said. “Do you think I’d get better faster if I had some more?”

“No,” answered Cally warningly, returning to her search.

“Idiot,” remarked Avon. Vila went quiet, looking miserable again.

“Avon, come here. I’ve found something for your wrist.” Cally interrupted before he could come up with any more insults; Avon trailed over to her, ignoring Vila as he shuffled out of the way. He let her apply the healing cast she had found, but looked rather more hesitant when she offered him a painkiller solution. “It’s perfectly all right. Vila managed his.”

Avon, aware of Blake watching this exchange, held out his hand for the bottle.

“I can do it myself.” He immediately discovered that the locking cap needed both hands; wordlessly, Cally took the lid off for him and held it while he poured. He scowled at her, but determinedly kept a straight face as he swallowed the contents. “Now can we go? He said the antidote isn’t in here.”

“Is that starting to work?”

“Yes.” Avon started for the door; Blake, stifling a yawn, dashed after him.

“Wait!” Cally called. They stopped impatiently, Avon wincing as Blake crashed into him.

“Where’s Vila?” Blake was the first to realise why Cally had stopped them; but it was Cally who spotted the missing member of the party. A desk at the far end of the room had been ignored when they came in, unlikely as it was to contain what they wanted; but a small hand was just visible reaching from behind it, aiming squarely for a bottle of green liquid which had appeared on the desktop.

“No, Vila!” Cally made a dash for the desk, lifting the bottle out of reach just in time. “You will be very sick if you drink any of that just now.”

“ _Very_ sick?” He looked anxiously up at her from the floor on the other side of the desk. Judging by the open drawers, he had been investigating the contents; which had apparently included someone’s hidden alcohol supply.

“Too late,” remarked Avon, joining Cally and watching Vila’s expression flicker between guilty and afraid.

“Vila, you didn’t...”

“I was thirsty, and you wouldn’t let me have a drink...”

“Not that sort of drink, no!”

“But there wasn’t anything else,” he wailed. “And I kept saying, and you just got cross with me, and I thought if I wasn’t thirsty any more maybe I’d feel better... but I don’t, not even a little bit, and now you’re cross with me again!”

“How much have you had?” asked Cally seriously.

Vila, reluctantly, showed her a good-sized tumbler. “And it wasn’t even nice...”

“Are you sure that’s Vila?” asked Blake. Cally ignored him.

“Was that full?” Vila nodded slowly. “That would have been quite enough if you were grown up... I don’t know what it’s going to do to someone your size. It certainly won’t make you feel any better.”

“Won’t it make him sick?” queried Blake. “Little people drink milk; or water. Not... green stuff.”

“I kept asking an’ nobody would give me water, they just shouted at me!”

Cally rather guiltily answered, “I’m sorry; I didn’t understand. You should have explained.” Vila looked puzzled; Avon tried to elaborate.

“When you’re grown up, if you say, ‘I want a drink,’ what sort of drink do you mean?”

“But I’m not grown up!” howled Vila. “You all keep saying I’m too little and I didn’t want to drink that nasty green stuff, I had to, ‘cause no one would give me anything else, and now I feel all funny and my tummy doesn’t like it...” Whether from sheer frustration or the effect of his drink, he began to weep.

“I’m not surprised!” Cally walked round the desk and lifted him to his feet; he staggered drunkenly and sat down again. “Try again.” She lifted him back up, with similar results.

“We’re wasting time!” Avon looked disgustedly at the small inebriate. “Just leave him there.”

“I don’t feel well,” announced Vila indistinctly.

“We can’t just leave him.” Cally gave up trying to put Vila on his feet and attempted to pick him up to carry; he hung unhelpfully in her hands, a dead weight. “He’s not safe. I don’t know how that,” she indicated the green bottle disapprovingly, “Will react with the medicine I just gave him.”

“I’m goin’ to be sick,” Vila informed them, before sliding out of Cally’s grasp and collapsing in an ungraceful heap. Blake came to have a closer look.

“He’s gone to sleep,” he observed with interest. “Is he all right?”

“Oh, come on!” Avon was losing patience. “Send him back to the Liberator if you have to, but hurry up!”

“Calm down.” Cally was not about to be ordered around by a child, but she could see no alternative for the moment. “Jenna,” she said into her bracelet. There was a slight pause. “Jenna, are you still there?”


	13. Chapter 13

“Jenna!” Cally tried again, all the more urgently as she became aware of voices in the distance.

“Come on!” Avon was practically dancing with impatience.

“We’re not leaving him,” stated Blake. Avon recognised the challenge.

“Suit yourself,” he answered, with studied casualness. Blake, tired and still with the literal outlook of the very young, took the comment at face value.

“You run away if you want to, then,” he retorted. Avon visibly flinched.

“I’m not running... I’m not stupid enough to keep following you, that’s all! You’re too little to be in charge of... of _him_!” He jabbed an accusing finger in Vila’s direction.

“I am not!” Blake looked as if he was trying very hard to remember that it wouldn’t be fair to hit Avon while he still had his hand in a cast.

“Why don’t you shout a bit louder and make sure Travis definitely hears you?”

“That’s enough!” Cally gave up her attempt to contact the Liberator and took them each by the collar to separate them. “If you carry on like that then if anyone is being left it will be you two, by me.” Both boys glared at her furiously. “Now stop it. Neither of you are being sensible. And there are people coming.”

“I know; and they’re going to catch us because there’s no teleport and he’s stupid and he’s even stupider...” Avon indicated Blake, then Vila.

“Avon.” Cally sounded dangerous; worried herself, and feeling decidedly guilty at the results of having mistaken Vila’s requests for a drink for his more usual, adult variety, her patience was wearing thin. “On Auron we have a saying; perhaps you have heard it on Earth, too. If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing.”

Avon stared at her for a moment; then his eyes dropped. Suddenly sounding no older than Vila, he murmured, “But I don’t want to have to stay little and be put down a slave mine.”

“Neither do I,” protested Blake.

Avon looked up again. “It’s all right for you; Travis is just going to kill you! At least that’s quick. And you’ll still know who you are. Well, until you’re dead, anyway.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cally let them go, sensing that they were past the point of launching a fist fight. “If that is all that’s worrying you, we have the pills now. We can at least keep you as you are until Orac comes up with something. It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

“Have we got enough?” Avon looked straight at her, wanting the truth; she nodded firmly. “Promise?” he demanded. He was clinging to her sleeve, apparently still mindful of his statement that he was too big to hold hands; Cally smiled.

“Yes,” she reassured him, carefully not sounding as if she had realised he was scared. “Do you want to carry some?”

“Yes.” Cally handed over the jars, waiting for the suggestion that anyone else would probably lose them; but Avon only hid them carefully inside his tunic and said, with apparent reluctance, “I suppose we’d better do something about Vila... what did he have to drink that for?”

“That’s my fault; I should have thought.” Cally looked remorsefully at the little person still blissfully unconscious on the floor. “He has never asked me for water before... It is quite difficult for me to get used to you all being so small, too.” She bent to check on him, at the same time aware of the voices outside getting louder. “I wish we could reach the others...”

“Jenna?” Blake tried his own bracelet; to everyone’s surprise, he got an answer.

“Blake? Are you ready to come up?” He shook his head, then remembered Jenna couldn’t see him.

“No. Cally tried to get you and she couldn’t. Where were you?”

“Here; there must have been a fault with the signal.”

“Can you bring Vila up? He’s sick.”

“I did warn you!” Jenna sounded resigned. “All right; Gan can look after him.”

Cally hurriedly tucked some of Vila’s purple medicine into his unresisting hand; he appeared not to notice. Avon tugged at her sleeve, offering one of the jars of pills she had given him.

“We might not get back in time,” he said. She took it with a nod of approval, wrapping Vila’s other hand around the jar.

“Now, Jenna,” said Blake. Vila disappeared; there was a pause, then a reply from the Liberator.

“When you said sick, Blake, you didn’t tell me you meant drunk.”

“No, that was afterwards,” was Blake’s rather unenlightening explanation. “He wasn’t well anyway, the man said he had Caliphon infu... influenza, so Cally gave him medicine, Vila, I mean, not the man, and then we weren’t watching him ‘cause she had to give Avon some too, and then he found the... the green stuff...”

“All right, I get the picture,” Jenna sighed. “Let me know when the rest of you are ready to come up.”

“Blake,” said Cally suddenly. “Tell Jenna she has to give Vila some more medicine if we aren’t back soon. Especially the pills. He should still be holding on to them.”

“I heard,” Jenna confirmed. “Good luck!”

“There.” Blake beamed at the other two, then yawned more widely than ever; Cally suspected he was finding it an effort to stay awake. The day had been rather eventful for someone of his size, she supposed. “Sorted.”

“Not quite.” Avon edged towards the door, then retreated again. “I think they’re nearly here.” The voices from outside were, indeed, louder than ever; clear enough now to make out what was being said.

“You must have missed them. Look properly this time.”

“Travis,” whispered Blake. He looked suddenly determined, as if danger being so near had woken him up a bit. “You go; I’ll stay and make him notice me so you can come back later.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Avon’s exclamation was less of a calculated insult this time; he looked genuinely amazed. “He wants to kill you! And he’s bigger than you...”

“And my teleport bracelet is broken,” pointed out Cally. “I’ll stay.”

“You have mine.” Blake took it off and pushed it across the desk; Cally pushed it back.

“No,” she told him.

“Have you tried in there?” It sounded as if Travis was directly outside now; Blake pushed the bracelet back at Cally, pressing the communicator button as he did so.

“Teleport!” he shouted.

“There they are!” The dispensary door burst open; Cally and Blake stared in dismay, the teleport bracelet still unclaimed on the desktop between them, as Travis entered. His right hand was pointing straight at them. He looked at Blake curiously for a moment, smiling; not a nice smile. “Well, would you look at that.”

“A miniature rebel,” observed Servalan, following him in. “And Avon’s here too. How nice that they’ve made it easy for us. Where are the others?”

The dismay on Cally and Blake’s faces only increased as Avon kicked away his teleport bracelet, which he had dropped to the floor, and sidled over to join them.

“You didn’t need to stay!”

“The antidote’s down here, isn’t it?” he answered, not looking at them. “There wasn’t any point in going back without it.”

“And now you won’t be going back at all,” remarked Servalan, as Travis stepped forward and crunched the bracelet under his heel. “Don’t kill him yet, Travis. I want to talk to them first.”


	14. Chapter 14

“We don’t want to talk to you,” answered Blake. Servalan seemed quite amused at being confronted by an angry little boy.

“You don’t seem to have a lot of choice,” she pointed out. All three of them stayed stubbornly silent; she sighed, and gestured to Travis to carry on.

“Drop your weapons,” he ordered. They did so, Cally groping behind her for Blake’s abandoned teleport bracelet while the clatter of their guns falling to the floor provided a distraction. “And those.” Travis pointed at Cally’s own, faulty bracelet; she removed it without a word and handed it to him.

“He hasn’t got one,” she said, as Travis turned to Blake. “Why do you think we stayed?”

“Where are the others?”

“Not here,” answered Avon. Travis raised a hand to slap him; he stared defiantly back, then ducked. Travis, already aiming for a smaller target than he was used to, was very nearly caught off balance. Blake involuntarily giggled at his furious expression.

“I don’t know what you’ve got to laugh about...”

“Travis, we don’t have time for this,” interrupted Servalan. “Just bring them along.” Reluctantly, he complied. Any thought they might have had of escaping when they reached the door disappeared as they saw the guards waiting there; one of them already had a tiny little boy held firmly by the arm.

“I didn’t tell them!” called the tiny one frantically. They recognised him instantly; Tal, short and thin as an adult, was clearly small for his current age as well. He winced as the guard holding him wrenched cruelly at his arm. “Ow!”

“It would have been better for you if you had,” Servalan told him. She turned casually to the other three captives. “Where are the others?” she asked again. “They tell me the device was activated on at least three people; and you,” she looked at Cally, “appear to be no smaller than usual.”

“Avon told you, they aren’t here.”

“On the Liberator, then. You had better contact them and let them know what’s happening. Tell them they have a matter of hours to hand themselves over; or however many of you are in that state,” this time Servalan pointed at Blake, “Will rapidly forget who they are. I believe the local custom is for them to be sent to the slave mines at that point.”

“And you approve of this?” It was a pointless question, but Cally was trying to draw attention away from the fact that Blake and Avon looked less worried than might have been expected; she could only hope that Avon was old enough to realise he must not choose that moment to check the pills were still safe inside his tunic.

“It seems a novel way of removing the more undesirable elements of society,” Servalan agreed. Cally looked disgusted.

“There must be another one of them here.” Travis, it seemed, was not satisfied. “They found three guns. There must have been three of them. Not her.” He dismissed Cally, and fixed Tal with his one remaining eye. “There was another one, wasn’t there?” Tal shrugged, then yelped. “I’d answer if I were you...”

“No!”

“Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?” asked Travis nastily, indicating to the guard holding the tiny prisoner that persuasion might be required.

“Vila was with us,” said Blake hurriedly. “But he’s not now. He had to go back to the Liberator, because they gave him a horrible disease and he wasn’t feeling very well.”

“Neither am I,” admitted Avon, standing close to Servalan and coughing. “Do you think it’s catching?” She looked at him in distaste; he only shivered and coughed even more horribly. Servalan retreated slightly.

“Maybe you should let me get him something for that,” suggested Cally.

“I doubt it will be bothering him for much longer.” Servalan turned away; Avon went back to Cally’s side as the guards began to herd them along the passage.

“ _Do_ you think it’s catching?” he whispered. “I haven’t done anything...”

“You did try to shoot someone. I think that might count as something they want to educate you out of.”

“I didn’t hit him!”

Cally decided this was an argument not worth pursuing. “Are you really feeling ill?” she asked. 

“Yes.” Avon glowered at their captors’ backs. “How far are they going to make us walk?”

“I don’t know.” Cally looked at Blake, but he seemed to be engrossed in looking for a way out of their predicament. He began to suck his thumb, then realised Travis was watching and hurriedly stopped. There was a gasp of dismay as he did so.

“My wobbly tooth’s just come out,” he announced, stopping dead. The guards behind, not expecting to stop, jolted to a halt; the one holding Tal was surprised enough to let go. His small prisoner was quick to take advantage; ducking between the guards’ legs, he ran. Disentangling themselves, they ran after him.

“Leave him!” yelled Travis impotently. Cally, also realising the distraction was a chance not to be ignored, gave Blake a push; he responded instantly, racing past Servalan and Travis before they had a chance to react. Travis, with another enraged yell, started after him; Cally and Avon followed as if to join in the chase. 

Servalan, with a look of disdain for the chaos created by one small child, followed at a more sedate pace. If she was regretting the decision not to carry a gun of her own, she made no sign; a sound from ahead indicated that Travis was still quite capable of using his inbuilt weapon however small the target. The shot was followed by unintelligible shouting. She rounded the corner, however, to find Travis getting up off his knees, and the others nowhere to be seen.

“What happened, Travis?” Her tone indicated that his explanation had better be a good one; he snarled in answer.

“They got away, that’s what happened. They can’t have got far.” He looked round as if expecting to find them politely waiting for him; but there was no sign of Cally and her small companions. Having taken the opportunity to knock Travis down when he stopped to fire at Blake, they had seen no sense in waiting to see what would happen next. They were now catching their breath in what seemed to be a changing room for the lab technicians, hiding behind a coat rack filled with unclaimed white coats.

“We can’t stay here for long,” Cally warned, as much afraid of the coats’ owners returning as of their pursuers finding them.

“I think I swallowed my tooth,” said Blake. He tested the gap it had left with a finger.

“It won’t hurt you. Are you ready? Come on, then.” Cally held out her hand without thinking; this time, Avon took it. Hiding her surprise, she observed reassuringly, “We can’t be very far from the laboratory now.” He only nodded wearily, grateful that she hadn’t mentioned his sudden change of heart.

“What about Tal?” asked Blake. “If they catch him again... we should go and help him.”

“We don’t know where he is,” Cally pointed out. “And we will be more help if we find the antidote first.” She crossed to a door on the far side of the room, Avon still holding her hand and trailing after her. “We might be nearer than we thought.” The frosted glass panel in the top half of the door was not entirely transparent, but it was enough to see that on the other side was a laboratory, presumably the one they were looking for. Cally tried the handle. “Locked.”

“We could break the glass,” Blake suggested. Cally hesitated; Blake jumped up, trying to reach the panel with a small fist.

“That won’t work,” Avon told him. “You need something heavy. And you have to be able to reach.” Blake, frustrated, looked round the room; his eyes lit up as he spotted a weight which must have served as a doorstop. He dashed over, picked it up, and struggled back with it.

“It’s heavy,” he stated.

“Give it to me,” Cally told him.

“No.” Avon dragged her hand back. “What if you do shrink?”

“I thought you thought I was too alien to be affected,” she reminded him. He looked faintly awkward.

“But you might not be, and if you’re little too none of us could reach. You lift me up. I’ll do it.” 

“You won’t manage it, with your wrist.”

“It’s better now.” 

”Even if it is, you are still not well enough to manage that weight. You’ll only hurt yourself.” Avon looked argumentative, but any retort was cut off as he started coughing again.

Blake, still clinging stubbornly to the weight, took a hand in the matter. “I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “But you’ll have to pick me up, Cally.”

Cally still looked unconvinced, but seeing that it seemed the best alternative, she lifted Blake to the right height. He swung the weight enthusiastically at the glass, which shattered, then leant head-first through the opening he had made.

“It’s the lab!” he reported excitedly. “We’ve found it!”


	15. Chapter 15

“Let us in, then!” Avon, having even more reason by now to want the antidote, sounded impatient; Blake, with an air of great concentration, leant further through the broken panel and swiped the keypad on the other side with his fingertips while Cally held him firmly by the ankles. A bleep indicated success; Avon barely waited for Cally to haul Blake back before he opened the door.

They all looked round, hoping for some sign to point them to what they were looking for. Disappointingly, the laboratory seemed unwilling to give up its secrets so easily. Nothing obvious had been left lying around.

“You don’t think they’ve taken it away with them?” Blake said doubtfully.

“Who?” asked Avon.

“Whoever was here.”

“They would hardly take all their supplies,” answered Cally. “There are some bottles over there...”

“But we don’t know what they are. We don’t want to take the wrong thing.” Blake still sounded less than certain; Cally, seeing him stop as if to repress a shiver, suddenly wondered if she should have let him smash the door panel after all.

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked him. “If Vila and Avon are both ill because they’ve broken the rules inside the re-education centre...”

“If I’d been aiming at that man I’d have hit him,” put in Avon crossly. He approached a computer at one of the benches, and stood on tiptoe to turn it on. “Maybe there’s something on here.” He tried to scramble on to the tall stool in front of it; Cally, seeing his difficulty, steadied him with a hand as he climbed up. Blake trotted across to look, peering over the edge of the bench; then he gave up and sat down on the floor.

“I think I’ve got it too,” he admitted. “I feel a bit funny.”

Cally looked concerned. “We had better hope we can find the right thing, then.” She glanced at Avon, who was still focused on the computer; he ignored them totally, concentrating on the screen.

“I think they make the...” He shivered, sneezed, and gave up on any attempt to sound older than he looked. “They make the shrinky stuff here too,” he managed. “The... the thing... this tells you how to do it.”

“Can you break it so they can’t make any more?” asked Blake eagerly. 

“Yes.” Avon’s expression was less certain than his answer, but Blake failed to notice, succumbing to a shivering fit of his own.

“Does it tell us what the antidote looks like?” inquired Cally.

“Probably. In a minute. I’ve got to do this first!” Avon, whether it was extreme youth or illness slowing him down, was getting frustrated. “I can’t make it do more than one thing at once!” Cally wisely said nothing, but waited. 

“Is it done yet?” Blake had less patience.

“No!” There was a long pause. “Yes.” Avon sat back in relief; Cally made a grab for him as the stool wobbled. “I think it’s gone. Unless they saved it on a data cube...” He looked about as if any stray data cubes would suddenly reveal themselves; Cally hesitantly opened the top drawer of a nearby cabinet.

“Like these ones?” she asked, showing the contents. Avon nodded.

“I don’t know which is which,” he said.

“Take them all,” instructed Blake. “Then they can’t shrink anybody else.” 

“All right.” With an effort, Avon leant back over the computer keys; Cally stayed put, ready to steady him again if necessary. “But we’ve got to unshrink us.”

“And then Tal, and the other people here,” Blake insisted. Avon turned and looked at him coldly; even Cally looked a little doubtful.

“We won’t have time,” said Avon.

“We have to!”

“We certainly don’t have time to argue about it,” Cally put in. “Don’t forget they are still looking for us; sooner or later they will realise where we are.” Seeing Blake about to argue, she added, “You are in no position to help them until you have had the antidote yourself.”

“It looks like this.” Avon pointed to a picture he had managed to bring up on the screen; Blake struggled back to his feet and came for a closer look.

“That looks like those,” he observed, pointing at the bottles they had seen on the way in.

“Get them, then!” Blake, unwilling to take orders from Avon, waited as if to argue; but he was interrupted by a sudden banging. All three of them froze; then, realising it was coming from the laboratory’s main door rather than the side entrance they had come in, turned to stare at it.

“Blake.” Travis sounded almost coaxing as he called from the other side. “Blake, are you in there? We’ve got your little friend...”

Blake, thinking that Tal must have been recaptured, was about to call out; but Avon shook his head furiously.

“He’s only guessing. They’ve come a different way. They don’t know we’re here,” he hissed.

“I think you had better come out.” This time it was Servalan who spoke. “It might be... unfortunate... for our young prisoner if you don’t.”

“Don’t open the door!” Avon’s whisper was more furious than ever as Blake approached it.

“We can’t just let them kill Tal because he was trying to help us!” Blake whispered angrily in return. The effort started him coughing; there was a cry of triumph from outside as Travis heard the noise.

“We’ve got them!”

Cally, glancing at the open side door, helped Avon down from his stool; he collected the data cubes while she went and took Blake by the arm.

“Come on. There’s nothing we can do,” she told him. “They won’t hurt Tal while they can use him to bargain with. If we get out of here quickly...”

“We’ve got no bracelet,” said Avon suddenly, looking dismayed. Cally held up the one she had slipped from the table in the distraction earlier, holding her finger to her lips as she did so. A faint flicker of hope came into Avon’s eyes; Blake still looked mulish.

“But...” he began.

“We haven’t got all day,” warned Servalan, still speaking through the door. Cally still held Blake back; the lack of response seemingly infuriated Travis even more, for they heard him snarl,

“I’ll get them out.”

“No! Travis, you fool...” Servalan’s cry of alarm was cut off by a loud bang; while the occupants of the laboratory were still staring at the door in shock, it was followed by the scream of a small child who was badly hurt. “Travis, you _idiot_!” The voice was slightly different this time; Avon, first to realise what had happened, gave a grin of pure, childish delight.

“He’s tried to shoot the lock out!” Blake stared at him, then back at the door as, over the sound of desperate sobbing, a very angry little girl carried on,

“Now look what you’ve done! And stop being such a cry-baby... it’s your fault. You’re going to be in so much trouble when we get back.”

Cautiously, Cally opened the door, only to be confronted with the sight of three small people. Tal stood to one side, looking dazed; a tiny, weeping Travis, clutching his hand in agony, sat spreadeagled on the floor; and little Servalan, looking utterly incongruous in a perfectly miniaturised but inappropriately grown-up white dress, glared furiously at her.

Blake beckoned Tal inside. “Look what we found!” He handed their ally one of the bottles of antidote. “It’s the stuff to make us grown up again.” Avon, clinging stubbornly to the only other bottle in sight, stayed firmly out of anyone’s reach. Tal’s face lit up as he took the prize he was being offered.

“You’d better give us one,” demanded Servalan. 

“No,” said Cally, in much the same tone as she might have reprimanded an unreasonable child. “I think you had better look after Travis. He seems to have hurt himself.”

“I don’t care about Travis!” The object of this argument continued to howl; everyone gazed at him.

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Tal curiously.

“Orac said it doesn’t shrink weapons.” Avon sounded thoughtful. “He must have been right.”

“It’s in his hand,” Blake elaborated. “So if his hand’s littler but his...” He tried to remember the correct terminology, then settled for, “...his gun thing... isn’t... it probably hurts.”

Judging by Travis’s howls, it did. They stepped carefully round him while Cally guarded Servalan; making sure everyone was safely out of range of a sudden attempt to grab the bottles, she took out their remaining bracelet.

“Jenna? We’re ready to come up, but we’re going to need some more teleport bracelets. Can Gan come down?”

“If he’s quick,” came the reply. “I’m not being in sole charge for any longer than I can help. Have you found that antidote?”

“Yes. The last two bottles.” Servalan’s face creased in furious terror at this statement. “And we intend to keep them.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Travis, shut up!” Servalan, too little to retain her customary poise, sounded angry; Travis, tears pouring down the side of his face which still had an eye, managed to turn his sobs into hiccups, lifted his hand to point at Blake, and immediately gave a fresh howl of agony.

“Do you think he’s going to die?” asked Avon hopefully.

The others were saved from answering by Gan’s arrival. He took a step towards Cally as the teleport effect wore off; then, recognising the two most recently shrunken individuals, stopped and gazed in amazement.

“Did you bring the bracelets?” demanded Blake. 

“Yes,” agreed Gan, without taking his eyes off Travis and Servalan. 

“Where are they, then?” Avon was not inclined to hang about. His tone was enough to snap Gan out of his reverie; under Servalan’s furious gaze he handed a teleport bracelet each to Avon and Blake, and then offered one to Tal.

Tal shook his head. “I should stay here. I’ve got this.” He indicated the bottle they had given him delightedly.

“Do you know how to use it?” asked Cally.

“If I tell some of the others here I’ve got it, then I’m sure we can make somebody show us,” said Tal, grinning.

“What about them?” Blake looked at Servalan, who seemed to have been stunned into speechlessness, and the howling Travis.

“Maybe they’ll forget who they are,” suggested Avon. Servalan gave him a look that was almost an entreaty; he remained unperturbed. 

“We can’t just leave them. Not until Tal’s got away,” insisted Blake. 

“But we need to go back!” Avon was just as insistent. “We’re not taking them with us.”

“I know that!” Blake’s indignant reply started him coughing. “If Tal goes now,” he suggested, regaining his breath, “We can watch them, until he’s safe.”

“There is no point in us all staying,” said Cally.

“They don’t exactly look dangerous,” Gan agreed.

“It’s your fault,” Travis managed to choke out suddenly, with a one-eyed glare at Blake. “I hate you. I’m going to kill you until you’re dead.” The threat lacked conviction, coming as it did from a tiny, tearful child.

“You’ve said that before,” pointed out Blake. “If you couldn’t kill me when you were big, how are you going to do it now?”

“I’ll do it for him,” answered Servalan fiercely. “He’s useless.” The fact that she was equally helpless for the moment she had obviously decided to disregard. “Give me that bottle.” She made a grab for the precious liquid in Avon’s hand; he merely held it out of her reach with an infuriating smile. She gave a squeak of annoyance. “Give it!” Ignoring the juvenile squabbling, Cally turned to Gan.

“Let me have your gun,” she instructed him. “I will stay and watch these two; you take Blake and Avon back to the ship. They have both been infected with the same synthetic virus Vila has.” Gan handed the weapon over, looking perturbed. “It isn’t passed through human contact,” she added, seeing his expression.

“I wasn’t worried about that. Shouldn’t someone stay with you?”

“I will manage.” Cally observed her two small prisoners closely; Servalan was clearly furious but unable to do anything about it, while Travis was still hunched over the ruins of his cybernetic hand. He shivered; Cally wondered if he too had unleashed the manufactured juvenile influenza on himself. Suddenly aware of her observing him, he gave a horrible scowl.

“I’ll kill you all too, after I’ve killed Blake.”

“By all means try,” invited Cally.

“I will!”

“Shut up, Travis,” snapped Servalan once more. “What are you going to do to us?” she asked Cally. “If you shoot us you won’t be grown up any more either.”

“I’ll take the chance,” Cally warned. “Don’t forget we have the antidote.”

“You don’t,” added Avon, just in case their opposition had forgotten the fact.

“So what are you going to do?” asked Servalan again. 

“Keep you here until everyone else is safely away,” answered Cally. “Then we’ll see.” She looked at Tal expectantly; he was just about to make a move when footsteps sounded in the corridor. “Gan, get the others back to the Liberator,” said Cally urgently, still pointing the gun at Servalan. “Tal too. You can put him back down somewhere else. Quickly!” 

Gan nodded; this time Tal accepted the bracelet he was handed.

“Jenna, four to teleport.” Jenna had obviously been waiting; in an instant, Cally was left with only Servalan and Travis for company.

.....................................................................................................................................

“What did we leave Cally for?!” Avon’s demand, loud and furious, came before they had even stepped out of the Liberator’s teleport bay; Jenna looked up from the controls, grimacing as Blake shivered and Avon began to cough.

“Not them as well?” she said resignedly. “Vila on his own was bad enough!” She gestured to the semi-conscious little figure slumped uncomfortably on the seat beside her. “And where is Cally?”

“We left her behind!” Blake sounded equally as upset as Avon. “We didn’t need to... Gan, why did you let her?”

“She must have had some reason,” said Gan. He, too, sounded worried, however. “I could go back down.”

“What use will you be?” Avon was clearly still fuming.

“What use would you be yourself?” retorted Jenna. 

“More than him.”

“I’m going back anyway...” put in Tal. Everyone ignored him.

“Gan, take them to the medical unit. Maybe Vila might go and stay there if he has company,” suggested Jenna hopefully.

“No...o,” wailed Vila, without even fully opening his eyes. “Don’t leave me!”

Jenna sighed. “We aren’t leaving you,” she said impatiently. “But we don’t have to sit within six inches of you. Particularly if you’re feeling that ill.”

“I don’t want to go...”

“We’re not going either,” added Blake. “We have to get Cally back. There were people coming.”

“People coming to get Cally?” This seemed to register with Vila; with an effort, he opened his eyes in dismay. “Is she not coming back?”

“Of course she’s coming back,” Jenna told him, before the argument could start again.

“Oh. Good.” There was a pause. “Soon?”

“Yes,” said Jenna, rather desperately.

“‘Cause I’m really goin’ to be sick...”

Jenna hurriedly left her seat. “Gan...”

“ _...right now_.” There was a scramble to remove Vila from the teleport area as he completed his announcement, Cally’s predicament being forgotten for the moment.

.....................................................................................................................................

Cally, freed from the responsibility of keeping her small crewmates safe, was rather less worried than they were. She kept her gun trained on Servalan as the footsteps grew louder; two guards appeared along the corridor, looking curiously at her.

“Are you looking for two lost children?” she asked them.

“That’s right,” agreed the first guard, his face clearing. “This them?”

“I suppose it must be,” agreed Cally.

“I’m not lost!” Servalan’s denial was furious. “I’m the Supreme Commander of the Terran Federation...”

“Oh? Who’s he, then?” The second guard pointed at Travis. “The President?”

“That’s Space Commander Travis,” said Servalan dismissively. The guard looked sceptical; Cally gave a sympathetic shrug.

“He seems to be hurt,” she pointed out. “Shock?” Both guards nodded knowingly; the first took Servalan by the shoulder, while the second hauled Travis to his feet. He screamed at the sudden movement.

“Don’t!” he sobbed.

“Nasty mess you’ve made of yourself,” observed the guard. “Better come along now before it gets any worse.” The threat behind his words was clear.

“You’ll regret this!” Servalan seemed to be on the edge of throwing a tantrum; Cally did not envy the guards when they realised their mistake.

“I’d better check there wasn’t anyone with them,” she suggested.

“Good idea,” the first guard agreed. “Thanks.”

“But...” Servalan was nearly frantic with rage.

“You just come on.” Seeing that the guard was not going to change his mind, she stopped, trying to retain her last shreds of dignity; but the look she gave Cally was positively poisonous. Cally stared impassively back, not moving until the guards and their little prisoners were out of sight; then she raised her wrist to speak.

“Jenna? I’m ready for teleport now.”


	17. Chapter 17

There was no immediate reply; Cally tried again.

“Jenna!” The guards were still out of sight, but there was no guarantee they would remain so. “Teleport!”

This time, to her relief, the teleport suddenly jerked into life, and she found herself looking at the familiar surroundings of the teleport section. She blinked in surprise to find Blake and Avon operating the controls between them, with Tal perched on the end of the bench, watching.

“We thought we’d lost you!” exclaimed Blake.

She smiled. “Not quite. Where’s Jenna? And Gan?” Avon rocked back from kneeling on the table to reach the teleport switches.

“With Vila,” he explained in disgust. “Jenna said she could see why you’d stayed on the surface.”

Cally needed no further explanation; she could imagine the circumstances quite clearly. “Where are they?”

“In the medical unit,” Blake answered.

“You should both be there yourselves.”

“Someone had to bring you up.” Avon tried to sound as if this had merely been an annoyance. 

“And we need to put Tal back down,” added Blake, “Because he doesn’t want to wait. He says if he can be turned back into a grown up down there then maybe he can help the others they shrinked...”

“Which doesn’t mean we need to go with him,” interrupted Avon. “Orac can fix us.” He shivered, and sneezed.

“Neither of you are going anywhere,” agreed Cally. “You’ll make yourselves worse.” She glanced at Tal, who had been sitting quietly through this explanation. “Will you be all right?” she asked him. He nodded.

“If I go back maybe I can help some of the others too. We’ll find somebody who knows how it works, and we’ll make them show us.” He said this with such conviction that it was possible to imagine his juvenile resistance army; Blake looked approving, Avon cynical. “But I haven’t got very much time...” He gave Cally an appealing glance. Seeing that his mind was made up, she shooed Blake and Avon away from the teleport controls, taking their place herself.

“All right,” she agreed. “If you’re certain. At least Servalan and Travis shouldn’t give you any trouble for a while.” She smiled faintly; Avon and Blake looked curious, but saved their questions for the moment. Tal waved at them; they waved back as he disappeared from view. 

He was hardly gone before Avon insisted, “Now we show Orac the data cubes and get him to put us back to normal!” His curiosity about the fate of Travis and Servalan was overridden by his desperation to be restored to adulthood; but the way he grabbed Cally by the hand and tried to drag her towards the flight deck was distinctly the action of a small boy.

“All right, I’m coming!” Looking at the sorry state of her small companions, Cally hoped Orac would be able to come up with a solution; both of them were now obviously flagging, however hard they tried to hide the fact. Blake, with an effort, darted ahead to make sure he reached the flight deck first. He was still forced to wait, since Avon was carrying the data cubes.

Letting go of Cally as soon as Orac was in sight, Avon hurried over to the computer, spilling the precious cubes on to the table.

“Orac! We need to know what these are...”

“That will take some considerable time,” came the tetchy reply.

“Then get on with it!” cried Blake and Avon in unison.

Orac hummed with annoyance, but reluctantly agreed. “Oh, very well.”

.....................................................................................................................................

Unfortunately for all concerned, Orac’s calculations did indeed take some considerable time; and the Liberator crew’s combined attempts to hurry proceedings only resulted in a threat to stop altogether. An awkward, restless silence had hung over the flight deck ever since.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say Orac was dragging this out for his own purposes,” observed Jenna after a while, casting a glance at the three miserable little occupants of the flight deck couch. 

Nobody answered. Apparently even Avon didn’t feel up to challenging Orac again over the length of time it was taking. He and Blake sat wearily but stubbornly refusing to leave the flight deck, neither willing to be the first to give in; Vila, utterly unconvinced that the medical unit was the best place for him if he had to be left there alone, had reluctantly been allowed to join them. Gan and Cally were almost as exhausted as their small patient after numerous failed attempts to persuade him to stay in bed; they had eventually given up and tucked him under a blanket on the couch, where he could at least see that nobody was trying to abandon him. Fear allayed, at least temporarily, he had turned worryingly quiet. He coughed feebly; involuntarily, both Blake and Avon joined in, rather louder. 

Jenna gritted her teeth. “How much longer, Orac?”

“The liquid antidote must be combined with the stabilisation drug in precisely the right quantity. No deviation can be permitted. It is essential that you follow my instruction, but I believe I have now calculated the correct dosages.”

There was an immediate flicker of interest, followed by hastily hidden apprehension from Avon and Blake.

“So who’s going first?” inquired Gan.

Blake and Avon eyed one another.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jenna. “Don’t you trust Orac?” They both shuffled awkwardly; then Blake said obliquely,

“Vila’s worse than us.” The statement was undoubtedly true; tactfully, nobody mentioned the fact that the after-effects of his inadvertent drinking session had done nothing to help.

“Do you think he’ll manage to swallow this antidote for long enough for it to work?” Gan, having earlier had the questionable privilege of finally managing to fight the stabilisation pills into a very sick and uncooperative small Vila, sounded doubtful. Cally looked uncertainly at their smallest invalid.

“We don’t know how long it takes,” she pointed out. “How do you feel, Vila?”

“Sick.” The answer was barely more than a whisper. “And I hurt all over, and I wish it would stop. Please make it stop. Am I dying?”

“No,” Cally reassured him. She turned back to Gan. “I think we had better test it on one of the others first.”

“Me, then,” said Blake. “In case it goes wrong.” He sucked his thumb nervously for a moment, then added, “Not here.”

“Come on, then.” Cally picked up Orac and shepherded a rather wobbly Blake towards the medical unit. 

The others waited in anxious silence, until a familiar voice made them all jump.

“Your turn, Avon.”

“Blake!” exclaimed Jenna, whirling round to see their leader looking exactly as he had before their ill-fated raid.

“I seem to be, yes,” agreed Blake. Everyone stared at him closely; Avon got up and walked round him, inspecting him for any sign that he might not have been restored to precisely his usual form. “What do you think?”

“Well, you look normal,” Gan said. “How do you feel?”

“Tired, but apart from that, fine. It’s as if nothing ever happened.” Blake shrugged. “Cally’s waiting for you, Avon; hurry up. We need to do something about Vila.”

Avon scowled.

“He’s still breathing,” he observed, ignoring Blake’s command. “You can hear him.”

“Exactly. It isn’t normal,” Blake pointed out, oblivious to Avon’s resentment at being addressed as if he were a recalcitrant child. “So I suggest you get a move on.” Avon’s expression grew even blacker, but he stalked off the flight deck without another word.

He returned not long afterwards, looking, like Blake, as if the previous few hours had never happened. Only the wheezing small bundle on the flight deck couch remained to prove otherwise. Avon looked at it with distaste.

“Can I suggest we get on with returning Vila to his proper size and then forget this ever took place?” he inquired. “Not that I suppose the antidote will make any difference to his mental faculties, but he’s liable to be of more use if he can actually reach any locks we happen to want opening.”

Cally, who had followed him on to the flight deck, gave him a reproachful look; but she said nothing as she crossed to the couch and crouched down beside its remaining occupant.

“Come on, Vila.” Cally gently peeled the blanket back so that a face was visible beneath it. “Can you sit up?” Vila only gazed at her mutely; she took him under the arms and lifted him into a sitting position. He shivered, giving a convulsive, rattling cough, and doubled up in a manner which caused Cally to shift hurriedly to one side. He managed to control himself, however. “You need to take this now. Can you manage that?” She showed him the carefully measured antidote and its accompanying pill; he looked unsure.

“Will I feel better then?”

“Yes.”

“Just swallow it, Vila,” said Blake. “It’s quite easy.”

“And make sure you keep it swallowed,” Avon added. “Unless you want it to go wrong.” 

Vila made a frightened noise. “I don’t want to... I’ll be sick...”

“No, you won’t,” said Cally firmly. “I’m sure you can manage if it’s going to make you feel better, can’t you?” He gave her a frantic, wide-eyed look, then cautiously studied Avon and Blake.

“Are you better now you’re grown up again?” he queried.

“Yes,” agreed Blake. 

“All right. If you promise.”

Cally took her chance before he could change his mind, swiftly spooning both pill and antidote into him. “Swallow,” she reminded him. Vila gave an audible gulp. For a moment nothing seemed to happen; then he faded out of sight for an instant, much like the effect of the teleport. He reappeared with a jolt as his feet, which had been sticking out in mid-air, unexpectedly reached the floor now he had grown; the impact was accompanied by a pained groan.

“I thought you said I’d feel better,” he complained, leaning his head in his hands. “My head’s killing me!” The others stared at him, perturbed. He looked up, grimacing, and rubbed his stomach uncomfortably. “I’m not sure the rest of me feels much better, if it comes to that.”

“Well, we seem to be all right.” Blake glanced at Avon, who nodded agreement. “Did you get the dose right?”

“Yes.” Cally looked at Vila again; he certainly appeared to be his usual adult self, if with a somewhat greenish tinge.

“He looks about right,” said Jenna critically.

“For him,” agreed Avon. “Orac?”

“The antidote which the three of you have received overturns the effects of the reversal device...”

“We know that.”

“ _If_ you would let me finish. As it does so by a method of proportional increase, then naturally the chemical composition of the bloodstream is equally affected.”

“What does that mean?” demanded Vila. The others smiled faintly as they realised what the problem was; Avon took it upon himself to explain.

“In terms you will understand, when you returned to full size, the effects of your alcohol consumption increased in line with your growth. Does that make it any clearer?”

“I only had one glass!” Vila protested, before adding, sounding not unlike his younger self, “And I didn’t even like it. Why does it taste better when you’re grown up?" 

“Does it?” asked Avon disbelievingly. “I suppose you would know.”

“It’ll never be the same again...”

“I’m sure you’ll get over the disappointment,” said Blake dryly.

“And what was it all for, anyway? We still haven’t got those spare parts...”

“Are you suggesting we go back for them?” Avon inquired.

“I’m just saying... What? No!” Vila looked horrified; Avon smiled.

“Occasionally he comes out with something approaching sense,” he remarked. “We can manage without those parts for now, Blake. Let’s get out of here.” Blake looked round at the rest of his crew; they nodded agreement.

”There’s still no sign of pursuit.” Jenna checked the detector screens. “But it can’t last for ever.”

“Then we may as well take advantage while we’re one step ahead.” Blake made his decision. “Set a course, Zen. Standard by seven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I enjoyed that; I hope you did too! Thanks for reading along and commenting, everyone.
> 
> Now what scrapes are the Liberator crew going to have to get themselves out of next? I have a few ideas, but we’ll see...


End file.
